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LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS 



YANKEE HILL 



TOGETHER WITH 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS 



HIS TRAVELS. 



EDITED BY 

Dr. W. K. NORTHALL. 




NEW-YORK, 
PUBLISHED FOR MRS. CORDELIA HILL, 

BY W. F. BURGESS, 22 ANN STREET. 
, 1850. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, 

By CORDELIA HILL, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 

Northern District of New York. 






I 



t 



INTRODUCTION 



It is to be regretted some means cannot be 
discovered whereby the impression which the 
player makes by his acting could be Daguerre- 
ofyed, so that his pictures may be handed 
down to posterity, that those who follow after 
us may know what manner of man he was. 
The immortality which crowns the labors of 
the painter in a great measure depends upon 
the durability of the material he employs in his 
art. If the splendid conceptions of Raphael 
had faded from the canvass upon which they 
were realized, as speedily as those of the Actor 
fade from the public memory when he is no 
longer able to make them palpable, the Player's 
art would not suffer, as it does now, from com- 

3 



IV INTRODUCTION. 

parison with that of the Painter. It requires 
as high a degree of intellect to embody a living 
representation of character on the stage as it 
does to impress it on canvass, and the Painter 
has only the advantage of being able to render 
that lasting which is evanescent and short-lived 
with the Player. 

No matter what command of language the 
Biographer of an eminent Actor may possess, 
what skill he may employ in the detail and 
management of his subject, it is utterly im- 
possible for him, in language, to convey a full 
and nice appreciation of those fine qualities of 
his genius which spoke from the eye, were 
felt in the tones of the voice, ano! gave mean- 
ing to the very slightest action of the body. 
In writing the Biography of Mr. Hill, whose 
fame as a delineator of a peculiar class of 
character is co-extensive with the land that 
gave him birth, I cannot but feel all the diffi- 
culties and embarrassments which arise from 
a want of means, as well as power to do 
justice to his character as an actor, and if it 



INTRODUCTION. 



were not that I am addressing thousands who 
have seen him, and whose memories will sup- 
ply that which language cannot convey, I 
should feel almost disposed to abandon the 
task I have assumed, in despair. It is a com- 
mon error with a certain class of people, to 
suppose that a man who devotes his time and 
life to the amusement of the public, has no 
higher claims to the respect of the community 
than those which might be preferred by the 
dancing monkey. I have yet to learn, how- 
ever, that the wit which can make the judici- 
ous smile, is less a spark of heavenly fire than 
the pathos which can make the tender weep. 
If people are easier made to laugh than cry, 
it is rather a strong motive for believing that 
God designed that mirth should be the rule and 
weeping the exception; and he, in my opinion, 
who devotes his life to humanize the over long- 
drawn solemn face, people a desert of wrinkles 
with cheerful spirits, and relieve the lachrymal 
gland from an eternal flow of tears, thus saving 
a thousand cheerful impulses from a watery 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

grave, lives to accomplish a noble purpose, and 
should command admiration in his vocation, 
rather than the obloquy too frequently be- 
stowed upon his efforts. The man who goes 
about continually moaning and groaning, 
stereotyping his face into a fixed misery, is a 
fool to himself and an ingrate to his God. 
The birds are cheerful at all times, in season, 
the flowers are decked in the gayest colors, 
and is man, made in the image of his God, 
to go sneaking through the world as though 
he had no business in it, and as though he must 
make himself miserable in order to be happy ? 
The Actor's art has higher aims and nobler 
purposes than the Aminadab Sleeks of the 
day are willing to award it ; and the time, I 
trust, is not far distant when the stage, purified 
from the adventitious evils which have grown 
around it, will justify itself, and take its proper 
place among the highest and surest means of 
reforming and elevating society. I have 
spoken thus freely, because I have undertaken 
the biography of Mr. Hill, " with a will," 



INTRODUCTION. Vll 

and I would have those whom I shall address, 
believe that I would not have undertaken the 
editing of a mere jest book, for neither humor 
nor wit have any dignity, in my mind, unless 
they are employed to effect some good object 
or illustrate a valued truth. It is the convic- 
tion that Mr. Hill accomplished a useful and 
honorable destiny, which makes me feel de- 
sirous to be, in part, the means of preserving 
as far as possible the memory of the man and 
his deeds. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



George Handel Hill was born in the city of Boston, 
in the year 1809. His father, Uri K. Hill, enjoyed some 
reputation in the musical world. The late Samuel Wood- 
worth, the well-known author of the M Moss-covered 
Bucket,'' in a brief sketch which he left of the early career 
of his friend, Mr. Hill, humorously supposes that the rev- 
erence in which the father held the memory of the great 
composer, was the cause of George having a Handel to his 
name. 

At an early age, he was placed in the Taunton Acad- 
emy, it being ultimately intended that he should enter the 
Harvard University, to become fitted for the practice of 
whichever of the learned professions his taste might select. 
Alas ! as Burns says, " the best laid schemes are mice, 
and we oft gang aglee," and ere even all the honors of 
the Taunton Academy had crowned the labors of our 
hero, a seed, sown no one knows how, had begun to ger- 
minate in his mind, which soon grew up a shrub of vigor- 
ous promise. 

Young Hill had a keen appreciation of the humorous 
and ridiculous, and being gifted with unusual powers of 
imitation, soon made himself notorious among his school- 
1* 



10 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

mates as a fellow " of infinite jest," whom to see in his merry 
moments, was to them " as good as a play." 

The admiration which his juvenile efforts elicted from 
his school-fellows, made him ambitious to improve his 
abilities, and perhaps at this time he imbibed the first 
desire to gain a larger stage for the exhibition of his 
comic talents. Study, to a boy of his mercurial tempera- 
ment and humorous disposition, was, as can easily be 
imagined, at best but dull work. His parents, of course, 
were grieved that the Taunton Academy had so little fasci- 
nation for him, or that Harvard University in perspective, 
could not win from him a more sturdy application to severe 
study. The vis comica was in him, and neither the hopes 
of collegiate honors, nor the parental frowns, could drive 
this supposed enemy from the strong hold it had upon his 
mind. 

At the age of 15 he gave up his studies, and, without 
the consent of those who had a right to control his actions 
at that age, repaired to New York, to seek his fortune. 
If boys could only look beyond the romance which youth- 
ful imagination raises between their present and their 
future, and see the struggles and difficulties which beset 
unaided merit, no matter how great, I fancy there are few 
of them would turn a deaf ear to parental warning, or 
leave a cheerful fire-side for the certain miseries of a too 
early entrance upon the stage of life. Parents, on the 
other hand, should be very careful how they render the 
homes of their children unattractive, by a too severe bend- 
ing of natural impulses to supposed duties. No impulse 
which leads a child to an honest pursuit, however different 
from the one selected or desired, should be inconsiderately 
checked, particularly where the impulse is accompanied 



YANKEE HILL. 11 

with unmistakeable evidence of genius. Many a youth, 
who has abandoned his home for the pursuits of a theatri- 
cal career, and has afterwards been left a floating atom on 
the sea of life, driven to and fro, without guide or compass, 
by every fitful wind that blew, would, under a more 
kindly guidance, have become, not only a brilliant orna- 
ment in the profession of his adoption, but what is better, 
would have been as respectable in moral conduct, as 
admirable in dramatic ability. Luckily for our young 
adventurer, his love of the Drama was subordinate to the 
lessons of morality he had been taught at home, and 
whilst his heart was in the Theatre, he never forgot his 
accountability to society for his bearing and conduct. On 
his arrival at New York he sought employment, and 
found it at a jeweler's store in Chatham street, where he 
was engaged as a clerk. He was, at this time, but 15 
years of age. 

In selecting a place in Chatham street, he had, doubt- 
less, his eye to a Theatrical neighborhood, for the store in 
which he was engaged was next door, or near Barrere's 
Garden, a famous place of amusement in those days. It is 
not very wonderful that, with the strong predilections 
which he had for the stage, he should have a congenial 
admiration for the Players. He soon contrived to form 
an acquaintance with some of the Actors engaged in the 
neighboring establishment. This led to an introduction 
behind the scenes. The gates of his paradise being thus 
open to his entr&e, he soon became desirous of being some- 
thing more than a mere looker on ; — he was anxious to 
hold a closer communion with the kings, dukes, and 
princes which nightly assembled. But the aforesaid digni- 
taries, however familiar in their lucid intervals, could not 



12 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

allow a sudden and too familiar approach, and young Hill, 
with all his earnest longing, ano! vaulting ambition, had to 
learn, that the way to a throne or principality is beset 
with thorns and difficulties : but he had " that within that 
passeth show," and he submitted with a good grace to the 
necessity of beginning at the beginning, feeling confident 
that at no remote period, he would rule where he was now 
serving. 

His first appearance on the stage was in a Roman mob, 
whose duty it was to throw up greasy caps to Coriolanus, 
and shout when the prompter gave the cue. He was an 
Actor now, and although he played no very important 
part in the Drama, there is but little doubt he thought his 
shout was a little the loudest, the strongest, and the most 
Roman of them all. After a while, he was, as a favor, 
entrusted to deliver short messages upon the stage. In 
this rather difficult duty he acquitted himself to the satis- 
faction of all concerned. 

Young Hill now formed an unalterable determination to 
adopt the stage as his profession. It does not appear that 
he had determined upon any particular walk of the Drama, 
or had even asked himself the question what was the line 
of business for which he was best fitted. The Yankee 
character, in the delineation of which he afterwards became 
so famous, had never been presented on the stage with any 
success, and of course, adopting the Yankee as his starting 
point never occurred to him. (Mr. Etackett had not yet 
made his appearance, nor did he, until 1826, one year after 
Mr. Hill had made the Yankee peculiarly his own.) 

In the year 182$, Wood worth's pastoral Opera of the 
Forest Rose was produced ; the part of " Jonathan," the 
Yankee, was entrusted to Alexander Simpson. Although 



YANKEE HILL. 13 

the character of " Jonathan " is a mere sketch, Mr. Simpson 
managed to make it a very amusing part to the audience, 
who nightly thronged to witness the production of a 
native author. The effect produced upon young Hill was 
such, as at once determined him to make the Yankee char- 
acter his study. The success which afterwards crowned 
his efforts showed how well he had judged his own capa- 
bilities. His mind decided upon the particular path he 
should travel on the road to fame and fortune ; he desired 
nothing so much as an opportunity of a/ppearing in his 
favorite character. Whilst at the Chatham Street Theatre, 
engaged in the way we have already noticed, he was intro- 
duced to a country manager, who readily engaged him for 
the low comedian of his company, which was about to 
make a theatrical tour through the western part of the 
State of New York. I believe during this engagement he 
had no opportunity of appearing in his favorite character, 
the Yankee, — yet the arrangement was full of satisfaction, 
for he not only acquired confidence and experience, but 
great popularity; he became a favorite wherever he ap- 
peared. Mr. Hill's comedy consisted, as he himself after- 
wards expressed it, in grimacing, — or, technically, mug- 
making. During this engagement, he met, at Stafford, 
with the " Methodical Audience," whose serious character 
he used to represent so inimitably in his entertainments. 
The good people of Stafford, it appears, had been unused 
to theatrical representations, — the company, of which Mr. 
Hill was then a member, being the first dramatic corps 
which had ever appeared among them, On the opening 
night of the Theatre, alias ball-room, the tragedy of Wil- 
liam Tell was played, to be succeeded by the farce of the 
" Lady and the Devil." When the audience assembled, 



14 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

the women were found seated on one side of the room, and 
the men on the other, exactly as they had been accustomed 
at church. During the performance of the tragedy, the 
most solemn stillness was observed : not a hand rewarding 
the poor Actor for his exertions. No one but the player 
can tell the dull, hard labor of performing a long, heavy 
part, unrelieved by the inspiring influence of a round of 
applause. Even the ceremony of hoisting the star-spangled 
banner above the pole upon which Gezlar's cap was placed, 
failed to excite any palpable emotion. The audience were 
evidently on their best behavior. The curtain went down 
upon the tragedy like a pall. Mr Hill was cast for the 
low comedy part in the farce, and although he was some- 
what disheartened by the cold character of the audience 
before which he was about to appear, he determined to 
exert himself to the utmost to break the ice which seemed 
to encase each individual present. Mr. Hill made more 
grimaces on this occasion than he ever employed before or 
afterwards, and did more illegitimate things than ever 
actor dreamed of, to make his audience laugh, but it was of 
no avail, they were immoveable. After the performance, 
Mr. Hill retired to the public room of the hotel in which he 
boarded, wearied with his efforts, and mortified with his 
want of success. He had scarcely seated himself, when he 
was accosted by a tall, raw-boned countryman. 

" Lewk here, mister." 

"Well, sir?" 

" I've been in to see the play to-night." 

" Have you, indeed ? " said Mr. Hill, " you must have 
been highly entertained." 

" I swow, I guess I was. I tell you what it is, now ; 
my mouth won't be straight for the next month, straining 



YANKEE HILL. 15 

to keep from larfing. If it hadn't a been far the women, I 
should a snorted right out in the meetin'." 

Mr. Hill was, of course, gratified to find that the solemn 
behavior of the audience was in obedience to their conven- 
tional notions of public conduct, instead of the want of 
comic merit in his efforts. 

Before he had completed his engagement, he met with 
an accident at Batavia which confined him to his bed for 
some weeks ; and I believe for several months disabled 
him from performing. He met with the greatest kindness 
from the hospitable people of that town, which he publicly 
acknowledged by the following address, delivered at the en- 
tertainment he gave on his first appearance in public after 
the accident : 

Address, spoken on Tuesday, March 4th, 1828. 

"I bow before you now, not in the comic character 
which on former occasions has gained your applause and 
approbation. There are times of sorrow as well as gaiety. 
The sombre spectres and scenes of death, cannot be always 
before our eyes, and some light joys must be an antidote to 
those bitter sorrows we are doomed to suffer. The days 
of prosperity last not forever ; thorns spring upon our 
pathway that impede our passage. The patronage bestow- 
ed upon me in Batavia, and the compliments received shall 
never be forgotton : this place and these friends shall live 
in my remembrance whilst the pulsations of the heart beat 
with all the tenderness of feeling. Honorable exertion in 
any profession must command the approbation of every 
honorable mind. By an untoward misfortune I suffer not 
alone. I have not merely had pains of body and agony of 



16 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

mind proceeding from the calamities which so often embit- 
ter our paths on the journey of life, but I am a child, with 
filial tenderness, bound to protect a mother. In this my 
native country, where the child of sorrow is never left with- 
out pity and sympathy, it has been my pride to appear be- 
fore you with the tender of my services. Of past kindness 
I am neither thankless nor neglectful, and the meed of your 
praise, whilst by your rewards bestowed on my labors, I 
am enabled to support life, animates me to more vigorous 
exertions in the discharge of my duties. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, self-praise is no commenda- 
tion, nor is it a claim which the humble aspirant after fame 
should arrogate unless it is bestowed. To please and 
amuse you, I have done and shall do the best in my hum- 
ble capacity, and with the full flow of a grateful heart 
offer you my best wishes." 

It may be as well to state here that the first entertain- 
ment which Mr. Hill gave alone, a la Mathews, was in the 
city of Brooklyn, in the year 1826. The Star, of that 
period, then under the editorial conduct of Col. Alden 
Spooner, speaks flatteringly of the young aspirant for dra- 
matic fame, and intimates that at no distant period Mr. 
Hill will occupy a distinguished place in the Theatrical 
world. 

In the year 1828, Mr. Hill temporarily eschewed "single 
entertainments," and engaged himself in company for life, 
with one who faithfully followed his footsteps through all 
his fortunes to the closing, sad last scene of life. He mar- 
ried Miss Thompson, of Le Roy, an amiable and accom- 
plished young lady, whose parents exacted, as a condition, 
that he should leave the stage. It is no slight evidence of 



YANKEE HILL. 17 

the strength of his attachment, that he complied with terms 
which to all appearance were to crush the earnest longings 
of his heart, and shut out forever from his sight the bril- 
liant future his warm imagination had painted for his own. 
He commenced business, but, as may readily be sup- 
posed, without success. His heart was not in it. The dull 
monotony of a store-keeper's life did not suit him ; and 
after making a short and feeble effort to mercantile his 
mind, he gave up the struggle and made an engagement 
with the manager of the Albany Theatre. Mrs. Hill, like 
a sensible and affectionate woman, did not reproach him 
with a violation of the condition which her friends made at 
her marriage, but appreciating the desires and ambition of 
her husband, and like him, confident in his ability to 
achieve both fame and fortune, she, as every good 
wife would do, encouraged and aided him in his efforts. 
That he felt grateful for the sacrifice which she made for 
his sake, is evinced by the affectionate character of his 
communications with her. His letters to her when away, 
even up to the time when the sickness seized him which 
ended his career, breathe warm affection in every line. But 
of this I shall have to speak in another part of his Life. 
Mr. Hill's success at Albany, was as eminent as his warmest 
friends could have wished. He was accounted by the 
critics of that city, one of the most promising young come- 
dians of the day. After leaving Albany, he paid a short 
visit to Buffalo, and delivered on several occasions, with 
profit and success, the same entertainment I have stated he 
gave in Batavia after his accident. He then, with his 
young wife, returned to New York, and played a short en- 
gagement at Peale's Museum. During this visit, he ap- 
peared for one evening at Blanchard's Amphitheatre, now 



18 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

the Richmond, and told the following story in his inimitable 
style : 

" Darn my buttons, if I didn't once court a gal by the 
name of Suky Snow : any on ye hearn tell of Suky ? I 
was detarmined to go and ask her if she'd have me. When 
I got there, the cat was playin' round the room, and I 
trod on her tail — I didn't mean tew though — she squalled 
eout, and Suke jumped up as mad as blazes and threw her 
out doors. I felt kinder sorry for the cat, 'cause you 
know any cat will squall if you tread on her tail. I sot 
down by the winder, and, thinks I — I'll say something 
now anyhow: says I, Suke, it looks rather green out- 
side reound here: yes says she, and it looks rather 
green inside tew. Says I, Suke, there's the meetin' 
house ; yes, said she, and there goes the Deacon. Jest as 
I was goin' to ask her if she would be my lawful wedded 
wife, her ugly old aunt came to the door, and I run and 
held it on t'other side ; she couldn't git in, and I couldn't 
git eout ; finally I made a bolt for the winder, and out I 
went into the old woman's soft soap tub ; as I was crawling 
eout, one feller said 'Jest coming down?' No, you tarnal 
fool, I'm jest comin' up. You needn't larf none on ye — 
I didn't lose nothin' by it, for I got ' my clothes washed 
for half price, 'caus they was already soaped.' " 

He was next engaged to go South by Mr. Falkener, the 
Manager of the Charleston Theatre. He played both at 
Charleston and Savannah, gaining an increasing popularity 
at every appearance. His star was rapidly rising, and he 
received the offer of a profitable engagement from Jones, 
Duffy & Forrest, managers of the Arch Street Theatre of 
Philadelphia. This engagement forms an important era in 
the life of Mr. Hill, for it was during the season he played 



YANKEE HILL. 19 

here that he made his first appearance in the Yankee cha- 
racter. His success was such as to place him at once on 
a level with the best comedians of the day, and far above 
any as a truthful representative of the genuine down 
easter. Mr. Hill's Yankee was the " real critter." It was 
not, as are almost all the representations of other actors I have 
seen, a mixture of Western, Southern and Eastern pecu 
liarities of manner and dialect, but the unalloyed, unadul- 
terated down-easter. Mr. Hill did not merely imitate their 
tone, dialect and manner, but felt and thought like them. It 
was this faculty, to use a hackneyed phrase, of throwing; 
himself, body and spirit, into a part, which gave to his 
Yankee a richness and truthfulness not approached by any 
actor before or since his time. He did not merely put o» 
a flaxen wig, a long-tailed coat, a short vest, a bell-crowned 
hat, and straps to his pantaloons long enough for suspen- 
ders, nor thus attired did he content himself by imitating 
the peculiar drawl and queer expressions of the Yankee, 
for the veriest bungler on earth can do all this, but the spi- 
rit of Yankeedom pervaded every action of his body, peep- 
ed from his expressive eyes with such sly meaning, that it 
was difficult for the time being, not to believe it was a mis- 
take in the bills, when they announced Mr. Hill as Major 
Wheeler, instead of announcing the veritable Major 
Wheeler himself. Jonathan, in Woodworth's pastoral opera 
of the Forest Rose, was the part he selected for his debut 
in the Yankee character on the occasion referred to. 

In the year 1832, he made his first starring engagement 
at Baltimore with eminent success. In the fall of the same 
year, he made his debut before a Boston audience. On re- 
turning to New York, he was engaged by Mr, Simpson, 
manager of the Park Theatre. The Park Theatre at that 



20 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

time was to the other cities of the Union, what Covent 
Garden or Drury Lane Theatres are to the provincial es- 
tablishments of England, the goal to which all dramatic ad- 
venturers aspired. To be engaged on starring terms at the 
Park, was the actors ultima thule, so far as this country 
was concerned. It is deeply to be regretted, that there is 
not in New York some establishment bearing the same sa- 
lutary influence upon the profession, as that which ema- 
nated from the Park in its palmy days. There was a power 
behind the scenes of the Park, which had to be severely 
satisfied, before the dramatic aspirant could tread the 
stage ; a power above the whims of misdirected public 
sympathy, and beyond the reach of a merely manufactured 
popularity ; in short, the Park was the head and brains of 
the American stage. The Yankee character had been in- 
troduced as yet in but very few pieces, and Mr. Hill found 
it necessary to increase his stock of plays. With this view, 
he offered a prize of four hundred dollars for the best 
piece adapted to his peculiar style of character. A com- 
mittee, composed of the following gentlemen — Messrs. 
Verplanck, Webb, King, and Washington Irving, were chosen 
to judge of the merits of pieces sent in. Quite a large 
number of authors competed for the prize, but of all re- 
ceived, the committee did not think one fairly entitled to 
it. Mr. Hill was, however, much in need of novelty, 
and at his solicitation alone the prize was awarded to 
Samuel Woodworth, for a drama, entitled " The Found- 
ling of the Sea." It was produced at the Park on the third 
engagement of Mr. Hill at that theatre, but was coldly 
received, and after the third night was withdrawn. 

I must now return to Mr. Hill's first engagement with 
Mr. Simpson. His success was most triumphant, and offers 



YANKEE HILL. 21 

came flowing in from every part of the country. He went 
next to Philadelphia to play a starring engagement. Mr. 
Hill's rise in his profession, was deservedly rapid. The 
public, with a ready appreciation not often awarded, were 
quick to see the merits of the young comedian, and willing 
to reward with a generous patronage, the deserts it prided 
itself in discovering. He now played a brilliant star en- 
gagement at Philadelphia, in the same theatre in which, 
but a few months previously, he had been struggling with 
an inconsiderable salary of ten dollars a week. 

Mr. Hill spent a summer in the Eastern States, for the 
purpose of studying the Yankee character, and picking up 
such peculiarities of dialect and expression as he could, 
from constant communication with the " critters " them- 
selves. In Boston, he was thus invited by a countryman 
to visit the town in which he lived. 

" Wal, Mister Hill, can't you come down our way and 
give us a show ?" 

" Where do you live ?" inquired Mr. Hill. 

" Oh, abeout half way between this ere and sunrise." 

" Oh, yes," said Mr. Hill, adopting at once the style of 
the countryman, " I know ; — where the trees grow under 
ground, and gals weigh two hundred pounds. Where 
some on 'em are so fat they grease the cart wheels with 
their shadow, and some on 'em so thin, you are obliged to 
look at 'em twice afore you can see 'em at all." 

" Wal, I guess you've been there :" saying which, the 
countryman departed. 

When a bird flew to pick at a bunch of grapes an artist 
had painted, it was esteemed the best compliment which 
could have been paid to the painter. Equally complimen- 
tary to the truthfulness of Mr. Hill's Yankee representa- 



22 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

tions, was the flattering mistake related in the following 
incident : — 

Whilst on this visit to the East, Mr. Hill gave an enter- 
tainment in Bangor, State of Maine, assisted by the Boston 
Brass Band. The entertainment was called on the bill 
"A Musical Olio." In the course of the entertainment, 
indeed, the first character he represented on this occasion, 
was that of a country youth. A countryman among the 
audience would insist upon it that the character on the 
stage was not Mr. Hill at all, but Seth Snow, a son of one 
of his neighbors, nor could all the persuasions of those near 
him convince him of his mistake. As soon as the per- 
formance was over, he rushed into Mr. Hill's private room 
and thus addressed him : — 

" Wal, you are doing nice things down here, passing 
yourself off for Mr. Hill. What d'ye think the old man 
would say, if he should see you in them play-acting 
clothes. Oh, you may squirm and twist your tarnal 
mouth, just abeout as much" as you please, but you can't 
deceive me, so you had better own up. Wal, this is a 
plaguy nice place ; and what a mortal lot of purty picters 
you've got hangiug round. I suppose your getting all 
fired proud, for you never had such a room tew hum." 

Without noticing Mr. Hill further, he turned to look at 
the pictures which hung around the room. Mr. Hill took 
advantage of the opportunity, whilst his visitor was thus 
engaged, to pull off his coat and wig. When the coun- 
tryman had satisfied his curiosity sufficiently, he turned 
round to speak to his neighbor's son, Seth Snow, when, to 
his utter astonishment, a perfect stranger stood before him. 

" Why ! how — here ! where is Seth Snow ?" 



YANKEE HILL. 



23 



" I am the only person who has been in this room since 
you were here," said Mr. Hill. 

"Dew tell!" 

" Fact, upon my honor." 

" And you ain't Seth Snow ?" 

" No ; my name is Hill." 

" And you don't know Seth Snow ?" 

" Never had the honor of his acquaintance." 

" Well, I never ; if I did, may I be darned. You ! if it 
was you, just now looked and talked jest like Seth Snow, 
and now you are no more like him than you are like my 
sister Sue. Wal, I never !" 

During this dialogue the countryman was examining 
Mr. Hill with wondering scrutiny, exclaiming every now 
and then " Wal, I never." 

" Look here, Mr. Hill, I hearn the hull of your talk 
inside there, but I don't think much of that, cause I hears 
that stuff every day, to hum, — and I've hearn the blowers, 
(meaning the musicians,) but one part of the show you 
ain't put out. No gouging, you know ! I paid my money 
and I want to see the hull." 

*' Beg your pardon, sir, but we have given the whole 
entertainment." 

" No, you ain't : do you see any thing green, eh ?" 

" I can't imagine to what you allude. I'm not aware 
of any omission." 

" Oh, come now, don't the bill say that you've got a 
Olio ? now I want to see the critter ; I never heard of the 
animal afore," and I'm death on critters. I thought maybe 
you did not like to show the critter to the women, but I 
want to see the Olio." 



24 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

Mr. Hill, as may be imagined, laughed heartily at the 
mistake of the countryman, who, when he was made to 
understand the nature of the Olio, joined in the merriment, 
shook hands at parting with Mr. Hill, and begged him, if he 
ever came down his way, not to say anything about the Olio. 

When we consider the years of toil and struggle which 
marked the slow progress of such a man as Edmund 
Kean — how reluctant the public were to acknowledge this 
transcendent genius — we cannot but be struck with the 
good fortune which waited on Mr. Hill in his early career. 

One thing, however, must be considered. Mr. Hill was 
the first to leave his footsteps upon an untrodden path, 
and, consequently, they could not be conpared to, or con- 
founded with, the tracts of other men. Mr. Kean was 
travelling on a highway, over which thousands had passed, 
and were still crowding on. He had, by his energy and 
genius, to clear the track, before the public eye could rest 
singly on him, mark the loftiness of his gait, the graceful- 
ness of his carriage, and the intellectual dignity of his whole 
bearing. Mr. Hill was fortunate in being able to strike out 
a new path to himself, and equally fortunate in possessing 
the genius and talent to maintain its undivided possession. 

In Cincinnati and Louisville, Mr. Hill played short en- 
gagements with credit to himself, and profit to the man- 
agements. His company was much sought after, for his 
amiable and gentlemanly manners, by the first class of 
citizens, who retained their friendly and respectful regard 
for him, to the close of his career. His social feeling, his 
extraordinary faculty of amusing, and his rich and varied 
store of anecdote and incident, would have rendered any 
man a desirable companion ; but he had, beside all these, 



YANKEE KILL. 25 

a sterling integrity of character, which made him as much 
valued as a friend, as prized as a social companion. 

His engagement at Louisville was a brilliant one : he 
played to overflowing houses every night. He was next 
engaged at New Orleans. He left Louisville on board a 
steamboat commanded by Captain Gay. One evening 
when the steamboat had been detained an unusual time in 
taking in wood, and the passengers assembled at the 
supper-table, a very uncoutli fellow was seen seated among 
the ladies and gentlemen at the Captain's table. The 
Captain was too busily engaged with his duties to notice 
the queer guest, who had already attracted the observation 
of everybody else. His attention was purposely called to 
the intruder by a gentleman, who seemed to know more 
of the stranger than he dared to reveal. The uncouth ap- 
pearance of the stranger, and a steamboat captain's stereo- 
typed regard for his lady passengers, excited the indigna- 
tion of the commander, and he told the waiter to order the 
intruder from the table. 

" Stranger," says the waiter, " you must vamose from 
here." 

" Dew tell," said he, eating most voraciously all the 
time. 

" Stranger !" exclaimed the waiter. 

" Wal, dew let a feller eat his supper," and another leg 
of broiled chicken was dispatched. 

" You must leave the table." 

" Why, how you talk !" and again was he at work upon 
the eatables. 

"Captain," said the waiter, "the stranger won't stir." 

" He won't stir, eh ?" said the Captain, in a rage. " I'll 
soon see whether I am to be insulted at my own table;' 1 



26 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

and with that the irrate Captain sprang from his seat, and 
seizing the uninvited guest by the collar of his coat, 
dragged him from the table. The greatest uproar pre- 
vailed among the passengers : some were for aiding the 
Captain, whilst others, seeing no cause of offence, except 
the mere fact of a stranger — whom, they supposed, had 
got on board at the last wooding — obtruding his presence 
in the wrong place, entreated that he might be permitted 
to remain. To the latter suggestion the Captain was deaf. 
There could not be two masters to the same boat, and the 
Captain, considering he had a prior claim, was proceeding, 
by a sort of a 'posteriori argument, to assert his rights : 
when the stranger, not relishing the idea of being kicked 
out, took off his wig, and displayed to the astonished 
Captain and his passengers, the familiar countenance of a 
friend and fellow-traveller, Yankee Hill. The mirth that 
followed was a sufficient reward to Mr. Hill for the risks 
he ran. Captain Gay was not a little mortified at being 
so completely " taken in and done for" by a man whose 
face was almost as familiar to him as his own. It was 
suggested by some of the passengers who had begged 
that the stranger might be left alone, that the Captain 
should be court-martialed, for attempting to push out of 
the cabin one of his most respectable passengers. 

The idea was very suggestive of fun, and all agreed that 
a court-martial was a very respectable and useful institu- 
tion. I do not think it was exactly in order to appoint one 
of the interested party to preside as judge upon this occa- 
sion, but, be that as it may, Mr. Hill was immediately 
elected to that office. Captain Gay was tried, found guilty, 
and condemned to be shot, or, rather, to pay the shot 
for the amount of oysters, champagne, and other fixings, 



YANKEE HILL. 27 

which strict justice deemed necessary to meet the offence 
he had committed. And so terminated the suit of Jede- 
diah Homebred vs. Captain Gay. 

Mr. Hill's success in the Crescent City was as trium- 
phant as it could well be. He made many valuable friends 
during this visit. Among those who took him by the 
hand were Col. Wade Hampton, of South Carolina, and 
the late Col. Fitzsimmons of Augusta, Georgia. These 
very influential gentlemen entertained a warm and sincere 
friendship for Mr. Hill, during his whole life. 

In the month of April, 1834, he returned to New York, 
occasionally playing in Philadelphia and Albany. In Au- 
gust he retired to Staten Island, and spent a month there, 
in preparing the Knight of the Golden Fleece, which was 
to be brought out at the Park in the September following. 
While at Staten Island, Mr. Blake, late of the Broadway 
Theatre, waited upon Mr. Hill, and so far won upon his 
good nature, as to induce him to purchase a piece, called 
" Major Jack Downing," for which he paid two hundred 
and fifty dollars. I have reason to know that in this bar- 
gain Mr. Hill's judgment was not appealed to, but that his 
good nature was, most imploringly ; and - as Mr. Hill's 
whole career displays a similar yielding to the necessities 
of others, it will surprise no one who knows the parties, that 
he was beaten in the bargain. Major Jack Downing was 
scarcely worth the value of the paper upon which it was 
written. I cannot let this opportunity escape without pay- 
ing a just tribute to Mr. Hill's liberality towards those who 
wrote for him. Persons unacquainted with the greediness 
and despicable meanness of mannagers generally, towards 
authors, will ask, why I should pause to pay a special trib- 
ute of respect to Mr, Hill, for his liberality in this particu- 



28 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

iar, when it was so obviously bis interest to encourage 
these efforts in his favor. I answer, by stating that it is 
so unusual for actors or managers, despite their true in- 
terests, to display anything like a remunerative liberality 
towards those who write for them, that it would be like 
playing the tragedy of Hamlet, and leaving Hamlet's name 
out by particular desire, to omit the mention of this uncom- 
mon quality in the subject of this biographical sketch. 

I know but few managers in the United States who have 
either the far-seeing wisdom, or the liberality, to induce the 
dramatic mind of the country to exercise itself for the ad- 
vancement either of their interests, or the interests of the 
Stage. Gentlemen of education and refinement, accustomed 
to the associations of polite life, will scarcely be induced to 
try dramatic literature, where the pay is not only inconsider- 
able, but doubtful, and the certainty of arrogant assump- 
tion, from nine managers out of ten, beyond question. 

The Knight of the Golden Fleece, which was prepared 
during Mr. Hill's sojourn on Staten Island, was produced 
at the Park in September, and owing principally to Mr. 
Hill's admirable acting in the character of Si Saco, was 
successful. Mr. Hill finished his engagement with eclat. 
He next played in Philadelphia and Pittsburg, then return- 
ed to New York, from which place he sailed with Captain 
Pennoyer for Charleston. He was received in that city 
with great enthusiasm. He next played a short term in 
New Orleans. When he was about leaving this city, 
standing upon the Levee, waiting for his baggage, he was 
thus addressed by a long lean down-easter. 

" Say, yeou, which of these things slips up fust?" 

"What?" said Mr. Hill. 

" Which of these things slips up fust?" 



YANKEE HILL. 2\) 

" Do you mean which steamboat goes up the river 
first?" 

"Yes. I'll be darned if I don't." 

" That one," said Mr. Hill, pointing to the nearest. 

" I'm in an awful hurry to git eout of this. It is so thun- 
dering hot, and I smell the yeller fever all reound." 

This individual had a very intellectual forehead, measur- 
ing about an inch and a quarter in height, and punched in 
at the sides to match. His eyes were set deep in their 
sockets, and something like a pig's, only the color was 
not as good. His nose pushed boldly out, as it started 
from the lower part of his forehead, as though it meant to 
be something, but when it had reached half its destination, 
it bent suddenly in like a parrot's beak. His upper lip was 
long and thin, and was stretched on a sort of rack, which 
was made by a couple of supernumerary teeth, which 
stuck out very prominently. His chin, too modest to at- 
tempt a rivalry with his projecting lip, receded back- 
wards towards the throat, so that, to look at him in front, 
you did not perceive that he had any chin at all. His 
hair was very light and bristly. A snuff-colored coat of 
domestic manufacture adorned the upper part of his per- 
son. It was an ancient affair. The velvet was worn from 
the collar in several places, but which was carefully 
patched with red flannel, being the nearest approach to 
the original color of the collar that could be found in his 
domestic menagerie of reserved rags. The buttons, which 
one would naturally look for at the bottom of the waist, 
had wandered up between his shoulders. The coat was 
remarkably long, extending from high up on the shoulders 
to the lower part of the calves of his legs. He was slight- 
ly round-shouldered, so that when he stood right up, a 



30 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

small lady might have found shelter in a rain storm in the 
vacancy left between the coat and the back. His pants, to 
common observers, would have been called too short, but 
he denied this, averring that his legs were too long for his 
trowsers. On his arm hung an old-fashioned camblet cloak, 
with the lining of green baize hanging about a quarter of a 
yard below the edge of the camblet. He said this was no 
fault of the lining, anyhow; " it got wet, and t'other 
shrunk a leetle, but the lining stuck to it like blazes." 
The Yankee was exceedingly anxious to secure his passage 
by the first boat, and he sang out to some person, " Say, 
yeou, where is the Captain of this consarn. Say, yeou, 
(to some one else,) I want the Captain. Look here, Nig- 
ger, show a feller the Captain. Look here, you black sar- 
pint, don't stick out your lips at me. Wal, I swow, I'll give 
anybody three cents that will show me the Captain." 

The Captain, hearing the noise, stepped forward and told 
the Yankee if he wished to see the Captain, he was com- 
mander of the boat. 

" Dew tell ? "Wal, I swan, you have got a kind of com- 
manding way about you, that's a fact." 

" What do you wish ?" said the Captain. 

"Wal, I want a bathe." 

'•'Very well, jump into the river, there is plenty of water/' 

,c I tell you, I want a bathe." 

" Well, don't I tell you to jump in, you can swim across 
if you like; we shall not start just yet." 

" I want a bathe to lie down in. Now do you know 
what I mean, darn you?" 

" Oh, you want a berth ?" 

" Wal, darn you. didn't I say bathe ? I know what I'm 
about, I guess." 



YANKEE HILL. 



31 



" I will accommodate you as far as I can," said the 
Captain, " but I have nothing but a mattrass to offer, and 
that is upon the cabin floor." 

"Dew tell." 

" It is the only one that is vacant, and the cabin floor is 
covered with them, so you had better secure it at once." 

" Wal, then, I guess I'd better turn right in." 

I omitted to mention that he carried a valise in his 
hand. Some one rather impertinently asked him what he 
had in it. 

" Wal," said he, " I don't know that it's any of your 
business, but I don't mind telling on you. There is two 
shirts, one clean, t'other dirty ; a pair of pants about as 
good as new, only a leetle worn here and there, and a pair 
of pistols. D'ye want I should take 'em out and show you." 

When he went down to turn in, he put the valise under 
his head, wrapped his old cloak around him, and threw 
himself, as he said, " into the arms of omnibus." The 
mattrasses on the other side of him, were occupied by 
some rough Kentucky boatmen. In the middle of the 
night, these men got up and commenced playing cards. 
No table being handy, they made use of the back of our 
Yankee friend for one, and chalked the reckoning of the 
game upon the camblet cloak, which surrounded the body 
of the unconscious sleeper. They became interested in the 
game, and began to lay down their cards with a might of 
fist, and earnestness of manner, which soon roused up our 
sleeping friend. He attempted to rise, but was held down 
by one of the party, who exclaimed, " Lie still, stranger, 
I've only got three to go, and I hold the Jack." 

" Never mind, I'm a most smothered here, but go ahead, 
darn you, play -quick and I'll go you halves." He accord- 



32 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

ing lay still, until they had finished their game, but 
whether the Kentucky gambler divided his gains with his 
table, was never satisfactorily ascertained. 

Mr. Hill returned safely to New-York, and played an- 
other successful engagement at the Park. He next went to 
Philadelphia, and from thence to Buffalo, where he played 
in the summer of 1836. In the fall of this year he played 
in Petersburgh, Philadelphia, and New- York, prior to his 
departure for the South. He was engaged at the magni- 
ficent St. Charles, in New- Orleans — Mr. Caldwell being 
manager and proprietor — and he likewise was engaged by 
r old Sol Smith, for Mobile. 

Mr. Hill sailed from New-York on the 3d of January, 
1837, in the ship " Mississippi," commanded by Captain 
Robinson. There were a number of passengers beside Mr. 
Hill. In two or three days, when the sea-sickness had 
passed away, he began to exert himself to make the 
time pass merrily along ; and to any one acquainted with 
his power of entertainment, I need scarcely say, how well 
he succeeded. The day before the ship arrived at New- 
Orleans, the passengers gave him a supper on board. 
After supper the following song was sung by Mr. Hill, the 
passengers taking up the chorus with a will : 

Now, friends, the time is near at hand, 
When we disperse this jovial band ; 
But as the hour approaches near, 
Let's still enjoy our Captain's cheer. 
Where e'er again we meet, my boys, 
We'll tell again our present joys : 
The many jokes, the pleasing game, 
The ladies, and the Captain's fame. 

Chorus : Where e'er ao-ain, &c. 



YANKEE HILL. 33 

When first we left the Eastern shore, 

The rough, wide ocean to explore, 

Our hearts beat high with hope and fears, 

The eyes we left afloat in tears ; 

How soon the change with us appeared, 

When free from sickness all was reared — 

Our natural mirth was in a glow, 

The juice of grape did freely flow. 

How soon, &c. 

Fill your glasses to the brim, 
This drinking wine is not a sin ; 
God bless you all, on sea or shore, 
1 trust the world holds many more. 
Now as the sparkling wine we sip, 
We won't forget this noble ship : 
And when I ask it, don't think ill, 
A slight remembrance of this Hill. 

Now as, &c. 

Whilst in New-Orleans, he purchased some real estate 
in Mobile, for which he paid five thousand dollars. Some 
time afterward, an old Spanish claim came up for the pro- 
perty, and he lost every cent of his investment. This 
is only one of a number of speculations in which ill for- 
tune attended him ; indeed, I cannot learn that he ever 
succeeded in realizing anything from any single venture 
which he made outside of his profession. Mr. Hill was 
unquestionably the best Yankee on the stage, and the very 
worst one off. The down-east shrewdness which made his 
assumption on the stage so rich and racy, formed no part 
of his character in matters of purchase or barter. He 
was simplicity itself on such occasions ; and when told by 
friends, of risks he was running, he would answer, " Oh ! 
2* 



34 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

my business will come out right, I guess." But he seldom 
guessed right. His disposition was sanguine and confiding, 
and he easily fell a prey to designing men. In connection 
with the purchase of his Mobile property, I may as well 
relate the following anecdote, inasmuch as it displays the 
only bit of shrewdness in money matters ever exhibited 
by him : It appears he consulted Robert Morris, Esq., 
ex-Post-Master of New-York, on a point of Law — the fee 
for which advice was five dollars. Mr. Hill visited Mr. 
Morris, and when the advice was given, he took out his 
five dollars and laid it before his lawyer. Whether Mr. 
Morris was astonished to see a player with so large an 
amount of ready cash or not, I don't pretend to say, but at 
any rate, he remarked to Mr. Hill, that players were usually 
very imprudent in money matters, and that he never saw 
one who knew how to take care of his money. 

" Is that your rale opinion of actors ?" said Mr. Hill. 

" It is ;" replied the ex-Postmaster. 

" Allow me, then," said Mr. Hill, picking up his money 
and putting it into his pocket, " to make you acquainted 
with one who does know how to take care of his money. 
Good morning, sir." Mr. Morris was too well entertained 
with the illustration to detain his client, and laughingly, 
bade him farewell. 

After playing his engagement at New-Orleans and Mo- 
bile, he returned to New- York. The following lines, ad- 
dressed to Yankee Hill, he found in one of the daily papers 
on his arrival in the citv : 



YANKEE HILL. 35 



OUR OWN YANKEE HILL. 



New-England, [ love thee, dear land of my birth ! 

The sky-kissing mountains, where liberty roves ; 
The blossom-gemmed meadows, the sweetest on earth, 

Thy bright, sunny fields, and thy musical groves ; 
Thy landscapes are smiling when summer prevails, 

And vocal with melody's amorous trills ; 
How sweet are thy laughing and musical dales, 

How pleasant thy laughing and musical Hills. 

I've stray'd in the South, o'er savannah and plain, 

By flat fields of indigo, cotton and rice, 
Through richest plantations of saccharine cane, 

And orange-groves breathing of Araby's spice : 
But, home of my childhood, while absent from thee, 

And feeling I loved thee more fervently still, 
How sweet to the wanderer, was it to see, 

A laughing and musical New-England Hill? 

The fair of the South have acknowledged its worth ; 

So simple, so quiet, so honestly shrewd, 
So freight with the richest incentives to mirth, 

So richly with wits' sparkling treasures endued. 
When Disherwill, Jonathan, Solomon Swop, 

With his Green-Mountain Boy, blue devils to kill, 
E'en Beauty must laugh till she's ready to drop, 

To view in Mobile such a green Yankee Hill. 

Then welcome him back, for this Hill is your own, 

And a fresh crop of evergreen shadows his brow ; 
By you were the seeds of his laurels first sown — 

Let fashion and opulence foster them now. 
The bright smile of Beauty will welcome him home, 

The patrons of Genius will honor him still ; 
The votaries of Comus forbid him to roam, — 

All warmly will welcome our own Yankee Hill. 



36 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

la the spring of 1836 Mr. Hill again appeared at the 
Park. In the June following he performed two weeks at 
the Tremont Theatre, Boston. Returning to New York, 
he played a farewell engagement at the Park previous to 
his departure for Europe. A few days before he sailed for 
England he received the following communication : 

"New York, August 2d, 1836. 
" To George H. Hill, Esq., Comedian. 

" Dear Sir : — At a meeting held this evening, after or- 
ganization, it was resolved, that the present being a meeting 
of the personal friends and professional admirers of Mr. 
George Hill, on learning that it is his intention to visit 
Europe in the course of the present month, we will invite 
him to accept a dinner, to be given by us at the City Hotel, 
on the 8th inst., as a token of our esteem for his personal 
character and admiration of his professional excellence. 

" In accordance with which resolution, we, in the name 
of the meeting, invite you to a dinner, to be given as an 
evidence of their and our regard for your private virtues 
and professional talents, at the time and place above stated. 

" B. Bates, Chairman. 

"B.Bionall, \ Seentaria » 

" S. JENKS bMITH, j 

The dinner was given at the City Hotel, at that time the 
Hotel of New York. It was numerously attended. The 
following letters were read after the cloth was removed: 

"Providence, August 6th, 1836. 
" Dear Sir : — It is with unfeigned regret that I inform 
you of my inability to be present at the dinner to be given 



YANKEE HILL. 37 

to our friend Mr. Hill, prior to his departure for Europe. 
A letter from you first introduced Mr. Hill to my acquaint- 
ance, and I ought, long ere this time, to have acknowledged 
my indebtedness to you for the pleasure I have derived 
from that acquaintance. He is too well known in his career 
before the public, to allow me to say, that, as a friend, a 
true-hearted one, and as a gentleman, I esteem him most 
highly. May he be a star in Europe, and succeed in show- 
ing John Bull what brother Jonathan is in his true char- 
acter. I will thank you to show him this letter, and present 
him my warmest regards. I forward you a sentiment for 
this occasion : 

" The Yankee Character. It has been perverted and 
maligned by the Halls and Trollopes of Europe. If through 
the modesty of our countrymen its beauty has been ' hid 
under a bushel,' may it soon be seen ' on the house-top/ 
and conspicuous on the Hill" 

" Yours, with respect, 

"W. R. Danforth. 

« S. J. Smith, Esq." 

" New York, August 8th, 1836. 

" Sir : — Your note of the 5th inst. did not come to hand 
in time for an earlier reply. I regret that it is not in my 
power to avail myself of the very kind invitation of the 
Committee to be present at the dinner to be given to Mr. 
Hill, being on the point of setting off for the country. I 
beg you to make my grateful acknowledgments to the 
Committee for the honor they have done me, and believe 
me, very respectfully, your obliged obd't servant, 

** Washington Irving." 

" S. Jenks Smith, Esq." 



38 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

On this pleasant occasion he was presented with a silver 
pitcher, which bore the following inscription : 

PRESENTED TO 

GEORGE H. HILL, ESQ., 

AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF THE RESPECT AND ESTEEM 

OF A FEW OF HIS 

YANKEE FRIENDS IN NEW YORK. 

The compliment of such a presentation had at that time 
an intrinsic value. It had not then, as now, become an idle 
ceremony, indiscriminately bestowed upon the undeserving 
and the deserving. A captain of a vessel, now-a-days, who 
is simply civil to his passengers and is careful and prudent 
in the conduct of his ship, where his own life and interests 
are at stake, is so often made the recipient of a compli- 
ment of this kind, that the thing has degenerated into a 
senseless farce. Mr. Hill used to tell a story of a presen- 
tation scene he once witnessed in a country town in the 
interior of the State of New York. A military company 
were desirous of presenting their captain with a testimonial 
of their approbation of his services as a soldier and a man, 
for, as one of the resolutions expressed it, " he was always 
foremost in the hour of danger," meaning, I suppose, that 
he had had the temerity to stand within six yards of the 
target on one of their excursions. A silver cup was pur- 
chased, and it was presented in the following fashion : 

" Captain," said the gentleman honored with the duty 
of making the presentation, " Captain, there be the jug." 

" Ah," said the Captain, " are that the jug ?" 

"It are," was the reply. 

" NufF ced," exclaimed the Captain, " and now let us 
liquor." 



YANKEE HILL. 39 

Mr. Hill left New York in the packet ship Oxford, Cap- 
tain Rathbun, in the month of August, 1836. Among the 
passengers was the Hon. Charles A. Murray, now Master 
of the Queen's Household. He was returning from his 
tour through the United States, the particulars of which 
he has given in a very impartial and entertaining book of 
travels. He formed a very sincere attachment to Mr. Hill, 
and took every occasion during Mr. Hill's residence in 
England to evince the deep interest he had in his success. 

Mr. Hill was the life and soul of the party on board, 
and they used to assemble in the cabin of an evening, and 
listen for hours to his amusing stories. The following rela- 
tion was delivered on one of these occasions : — 

"Ike Marble came driving the Deacon's mare along one 
day, like nothin ! 'Well, Sol,' says he, 'yer goin' to 
uncle Ephs V * Why,' says I, ' I ain't fixed up nor 
nothin'.' 'Jump in,' says he, and he took me by the 
coat-collar and pulled me in kerchunk. Away we went : 
we skipped over the airth like real tearers ; pretty directly 
we brought up to uncle Ephs, all standing like an empty 
bag full of nothin'. Well, in I goes into the parlor and sot 
myself down right alongside of uncle Ephs' Betty. Says 
I, ' Betty, how d'ye due ?' I couldn't git along a bit 
though, for she blushed just like a blue carrot. Presently 
in come Nancy Slocum, Ike Marble, and a hull lot more of 
gals and fellers. By jingo, I never seed the like afore, and 
there was I settin' right in the wrong place, for the gals 
all seemed to take a taring liking to that room. Bime by, 
Nance says, ' Sol, will you go in t'other room.' Confound 
it, thinks I, you got another room ? Howsomdever I did 
go in, and arter a little while supper was got ready, and I 
took my stand right behind the door so as to see the gals 



40 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

as they went out by one room into t'other ; presently some- 
body said, ' Better shut the door tew ;' slam went the door. 
'Boo!' says I, and they all cried out, ' Why, Sol.' They 
opened their mouths wide enough to swaller a haymow. 
At last I got sot right down between Nancy Slocum and 
Sal Barton, with a large chunk of pumpkin- pie in one hand, 
and Nancy's hand in t'other. Just as I was goin' to ask 
Nancy if she loved apple sarce, in comes Ike Marble with 
his white trowsers all daubed with mud ; it sot me a larfin 
so, right afore Sal Barton tew, that I dropped a great junk 
of pumpkin pie right slap on Sal Barton's new gown : then 
sich a time : Sal jumped up, Ike looked blue, Nancy blush- 
ed, and I sneaked out. Oh ! I swow if I ain't one of the 
most unlucky critters that ever breathed. Tryin' to git out 
of the way, I went into uncle Ephs cupboard and sot my- 
self slap down in one of aunt Nab's custard puddings. 
Oh, dear ! as I was fumbling round to git out, down come 
a bottle of pepper-sarce into nine hundred pieces. 
' Mercy !' screamed Nancy, ' what's in our cupboard ?' 
The door flew in and I flew out, all dripping with custard, 
bang agin Nance, chunk agin Sal Barton, out through the 
porch, and over the bridge, as if Satan was arter me, and 
if you catch me there agin you'll catch a white weazel 
asleep, I tell you." 

During the passage across the Atlantic, Messrs. Murray 
and Hill used to issue a daily paper, which was a source 
of infinite amusement to the little public of which they 
were the head and front. I regret that I have it not in 
my power to present several numbers of this Atlantic 
Journal. The following communications appeared in one 
which has been preserved : — 



YANKEE HILL. 41 

" Berth Lodge, Steerage County, 
"August 27th, 1836. 

" Messrs. Kinderer, Murray, Hill & Co., 

" Gentlemen : — Ever since I moved into this coun- 
try, I have been very much interested in the case of an 
unfortunate woman who resides in my vicinity. She is 
daily pining away, without any disease that medical skill can 
detect. When I first knew her she was almost a skeleton: 
she has now but a thin transparent covering to her bones. 
The sight of her has been so piteous as often to take away my 
appetite, especially when the vessel works and rocks more 
than usual. She refuses all consolation, and has never, 
till this very day, made any disclosures of the sercet of her 
suffering. Yesterday morning, as I was reading the Last 
Breeze, I was startled by a sudden scream ; I looked up 
and saw her falling, while No. 4, who had evidently been 
talking with her, was endeavoring in vain to support her ; 
she fell senseless. We used water, Cologne, &c, while 
Doctor Lobelia was sent for, but all our efforts and his 
were ineffectual. The hottest steamings produced no im- 
pression upon her. We were giving her up as a gone case, 
the only case he had ever lost, the Doctor said, when she 
had revived enough to say, ' Oh Sol ;' but instead of pro- 
ceeding in her Latin invocation to the sun, as we supposed 
it, she fell back, became drowsy, and slept till this morn- 
ing. The Doctor seeing that nothing more was to be done 
for her at present, first asked me if he should look to me 
for his fee, then discoursed upon the blessings of the Thom- 
sonian practice ; then took the two Latin words she had 
uttered as a theme for a phrenological harangue to the au 
dience, which had now gathered round him. ' Only think, 
said he, ' of Latin from a woman of her condition, ho\i 



42 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

wonderful !' ' You, none of you understand it, but I do. I 
see it in her eyes ; only look, how prominent,' for in truth 
her flesh had fallen away so that they stood out like gog- 
gles. But I ought not to repeat his discourse, which was 
so eloquent, that the audience upon the spot formed a 
phrenological society, and voted to request a copy for the 
press ; you will, no doubt, be applied to to print it. This 
morning the poor woman seems quite bright and has ap- 
plied to me to write to you in her behalf, as she is not able 
to write herself. Her yesterday's emotion was occasioned, 
she says, by hearing from No. 4, that a man had been 
seen in your country calling himself Solomon, and mention- 
ing her name with Sal Barton. She has no doubt but 
that it is her sweetheart, Solomon Snifflenose, the deacon's 
son, and as her life depends on his being found, she wishes 
you to advertise him in your extensively read and highly 

valued paper. 

" Your friend and subscriber, 

" Zerubbabel Skinner. 

" P. S. — I enclose an advertisement and a letter for Mr. 
Snifflenose, should he be found. 

"lost, strayed, or stolen, 

" A first-rate Sweetheart, 27 years old, 5 feet 4 inches in 
height, weighing 149 pounds. He has a round faee, lips 
that turn up most bewitchingly at the corners ; is a charm- 
ing little fellow every way, and answers to the name of 
Solomon, or, more commonly, Sol Snifflenose. I have no 
money, but any one that will give me information where 
said Solomon may be found, will do more than I can tell, 
for a distressed maiden ; and if any person will seize him 



YANKEE HILL. 43 

and fetch him right to me, he shall have the first cent I 

find in* the ashes , 

her 

"Witness, Nancy ><! Slocum. 

" Zerubbabel Skinner. mark. 

" N.B. — He must be treated kindly. 

" Dear Sol, — I take my "pen in hand, or rather Mr. 
Skinner (don't squint, Sol, he is 50 years old, and has got a 
wife and children), takes it for me. I'm in such a taking, 
Sol, I can't write to inform you that I am in good health, 
and hope you enjoy the same blessing — (Mr. Solomon, I, 
the penman, Z. Skinner, must interrupt the course of the 
epistle, to say that this is a lie, told so as not to hurt your 
feelings ; she is as sick as she can be and live, and is dying 
to see you.) Oh ! Sol, what a spot of work you made 
when you run into that closet and then run away from me. 
Oh ! dear, dear ! did you know, Sol, what tender affections 
you were crushing in the bud, you'd never have sneaked 
out so, after having thrown so many sheep's eyes, and a 
squeezing my hand, so as eenmost to make the tears come. 
What if you did sit down in mother's pudding ? 'twas clean 
dirt ; and if you don't like the cow's milk you need not kill 
the heifer calf to spite her. Oh ! I shall die, Sol — (a sigh 
here as long as your father's nose, Mr. Solomon. — Z. S.) if 
you don't come back. When you run I took arter you as 
you'd a seen if you'd look back, but I might as soon have 
thought of catching a weazel, or legging it arter a streak of 
lightning. I went home, but I could not eat any more 
than our white pig, when the black one had rooted his 
trough over. So, one night, I took a bundle of clothes and 
sot out, to see if it I could not find you. I heard you were 
seen on your way to New York. I followed on, and who 



44 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

should I see, as I was trudging down Broadway, with the 
houses on both sides as thick as Sue's pumpkins, but Jerry 
S naggers. He told how you were going to old England, 
and he guessed as the great folks there would snicker well 
to see such a sloony of a Yankee among them. I wanted 
to pull his whiskers for him, but, says I, 'twon't do here 
'fore folks, and asked him how you were going ? He said 
he did not know, but a new ship was jist on the start and 
if I went in it I should be sure of getting there as soon or 
sooner than he, so I looked as pleasant as a basket of chips 
and asked him to go with me to get on board : so we went ; 
and the Captain asked me whether I would go as a cabin 
or steerage passenger ? ' Which gets there first ?' says I, 
'Why there ain't much difference,' says he, 'but if without 
we back in the steerage folks have a little the best chance,' 
so I took his advice and went right aboard. I've looked 
for you ever since and axed some sly questions for you, but 
till just now, (the poor woman has no idea of the lapse of 
time, Mr. Snifflenose. — Z. S.) I've supposed you were in 
some other ship. Oh ! Jiffins, how Bill made me jump. 
I thought I should have gone out of my skin. And 
now I'm in sich pewter basin. But do come and see me, 
Sol. You will, won't you, Sol ? Don't say you won't, Sol ; 
now, you won't, Sol, will you ? Your best friend, 

" Nancy Slocum. 

" She cried so here, that she could not tell me anything 
more, and as the mail is just going she wants me to put 
down her name and send it off. Yours, &c, 

"Z. S." 

Mr. Hill arrived safely at Liverpool, and after a short 
stay there, proceeded at once to London. 



YANKEE HILL. 45 

We may regret as much as we please that we have not 
more independence of judgment on this side the Atlantic 
than to be influenced by the fiat of a London audience in 
dramatic affairs : it is nevertheless true that we are so, and 
all the regrets and sarcasm in the world to the contrary, it 
will have weight among us. Mr. Hill was fully impressed 
with the important bearing his success or failure in London 
would have upon his fortune in the United States, and this 
added to the doubts and fears which every actor would 
feel in appearing before a strange audience, made him 
excessively nervous and anxious about his appearance. 
The Yankee dialect was but little, if at all, known in Lon- 
don ; and he knew that his success must depend on some- 
thing more solid than the mere delivery of quaint sayings 
in a strange and peculiar dialect. Mr. Hill, in contempla- 
tion of the hazard he was running in venturing upon entirely 
new ground before a British audience, often had his mis- 
giving upon the propriety of the step he had taken. At 
home, he stood alone the representative of the Yankee 
character; he was applauded to the very echo wherever he 
appeared, and not a theatre in the Union which was not 
open to him whenever he chose to engage : but he felt, 
that if he failed in his present enterprise, his brilliant pros- 
pects at home would be, if not entirely blighted, at least 
materially dimmed. 

Mr. Hill was engaged by Mr. Bunn, then lessee of 
Drury Lane, to appear at that establishment. Mr. Bernard, 
the well-known dramatic author, was employed by Mr. H. 
to prepare a new piece for his debut. The Yankee Pedlar 
was the result, and in this piece Mr. Hill made his first bow 
to a British audience. Mr. Price, the able partner of the 
late Edmund Simpson, Esq., was exceedingly kind to him, 



46 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

and Hid and said all he could to encourage him. A few 
days before he appeared, Mr. H. received the following note 
from Mr. P. : 

" Mr dear Sir : I understand you have been very much 
annoyed by some remarks of Mr. Bentley's. It was cer- 
tainly bad taste in him to mention to you his dissatisfaction, 
which I presume arises from the part assigned him. You 
are to remember you want all your nerve, and I am quite 
sure you may depend upon a warm reception. Go on, 
fearlessly, and you need have no dread of the result. You 
will have many warm friends in the house who will support 
you. Yours, truly, S. Price." 

The eventful evening at length arrived. Public expecta- 
tion had been much excited by the novelty about to be 
presented for its enjoymnnt, and the house, on the evening 
of Mr. Hill's appearance, was full of the fashion and 
beauty of London. He was received with the utmost 
enthusiasm, for there was that in the manner of his entrance 
which at once impressed upon the minds of the audience 
that a genuine artist had made his entree. How well he 
succeeded may be seen by the following notices which 
appeared in the London papers. 

Mr. Hill thus wrote to his friend Wood worth : 

"London, Dec. 12, 1836. 
" My dear Woodworth : I was most happy to receive 
your kind favor bearing date Nov. 16th, but grieve to hear 
that you have been so afflicted with your eyes as to cause 
your resignation at the ' Navy Yard, Boston.' Before 
this can reach you, you will have heard of my success at 



YANKEE HILL. 47 

'Drury Lane,' which was most triumphant. Cordelia 
(I believe) has a letter from me, which contains the account 
of my first appearance here, which I have no doubt she 
will read to you. I am pleased to hear you have done 
something: more for the American Drama ; let authors and 
actors work for each other in our beloved country, and the 
time is not far distant when we shall build a dramatic fame 
amono- us, which will be the envy of the world. I am so 
much engaged at this period, that I cannot give you as long 
a letter as I wished, but promise one when I am more at 
leisure. Remember me to your family, and believe me, as 
ever, Your sincere friend, Gr. H. Hill." 

" S. Wood worth, Esq" 



From the London Times, Nov. 2, 1836. 

" Drury Lake Theatre. — One of the most curious and 
novel representations that our stage has seen, was exhibited 
last night, in the performance of Mr. Hill, an American 
comic actor. Mr. Hill, it seems, has been extremely popu- 
lar in America, for the humorous fidelity with which he has 
portrayed the characteristics of Yankees, a race whose 
peculiarities excite no small degree of mirth among the 
nephews and nieces of Uncle Sam. The sketches of the 
late Mr. Mathews and the lucubrations of Major Downing 
and Colonel Crockett, have given us some notion of the 
oddities of the down-easters. Mr. Hill's personations 
furnish a finished picture, of the accuracy of which we have 
no reason to doubt, and of the whimsicality of which we 
readilv bear witness to. But the true merit of his acting is, 
that he gives a perfect picture of a very odd character 



48 LIFE AND KECOLLECTIONS OF 

hitherto very slightly known on our stage, and proves in 
that power of humor which is somewhat rare and always 
highly attractive, he can fairly take his stand among the 
best low comedy actors we possess. He was received with 
great applause, his jokes produced abundant laughter, and 
the audience seemed so to relish the whim of the represen- 
tation, that he can hardly fail to become a favorite. He 
was called for, after the close of the piece, and his an- 
nouncement of its repetition was received with universal 
approbation. Some more such importations as Mr. Forrest 
and Mr. Hill, and our dramatic freights to America will be 
brought much more directly under the reciprocity system 
than they have hitherto been." 



FROM THE LONDON GLOBE, OF NOVEMBER 2, 1836. 

" Drury-Lane. — Mr. Hill, who has obtained pretty con- 
siderable celebrity in America, by his droll performance of 
Yankee characters, last night submitted his pretensions to 
the approval of a London audience, who were highly 
amused with his quaint humor, and awarded him a hearty 
welcome, and applauded his exertions as vehemently as 
the most ardent of his countrymen could desire ; the au- 
dience seemed fully determined to prove how happy they 
were to acknowledge talent from wherever it might come, 
* and went the whole hog' in expressing their approval of 
the ' stranger's ' talents. A new ' local' and characteristic 
sketch, in one act, entitled ' The Yankee Pedlar ; or, Old 
Times in Virginia,' was prepared for Mr. Hill's appearance, 
It is from the ready pen of Mr. Bernard, and, as a piece de 






YANKEE HILL. 49 

circonstance, merits commendation. Its leading* incidents 
serve to portray the peculiarities of that portion of our trans- 
Atlantic brethren termed * Yankees,' or in their expressive 
vocabulary ' Down-Easters.' Mr. Hill sustained, in the 
piece, the part of Hiram Dodge, a Yankee pedlar, a coun- 
terpart of our ' canny Yorkshire lad.' Not finding a mar- 
ket for his razors, which he assured his customers, if oiled, 
and put under the pillow at night, would astonish the 
buyer, who would find himself clean shaved when he awoke 
in the morning, he becomes successively a servant, a con- 
fidant, a carpenter, and jockey, with a view to gain unap- 
propriated dollars, and is at last brought upon the stage 
defunct, having been thrown from a horse in a race ; he, 
however, revives with alacrity, upon hearing his quondam 
master exclaim, he would give forty dollars if he were alive 
again, and clenches the offer at the instant. The principal 
attraction and peculiarity of the performance was the 
quaint, dry humor of the actor, and the many odd phrases 
and similes interspersed throughout the dialogue. At the 
conclusion of the piece, Mr. Hill was liberally applauded 
by the audience, and called forward to receive the expres- 
sion of their approbation." 



FROM THE LONDON TRUE SUN, NOVEMBER 2, 1836. 

"Drury-Lane. — Our heart always warms to an American 
in England : still more to an American on the English 
stage. We went prepared to greet Mr. Hill with cordiality, 
and predisposed to be pleased. We need not have fostered 
a friendly feeling towards him= He had not been ten 
3 



50 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

minutes on the boards ere he had deserved aud commanded 
it from every man, woman, and child. There is a bon- 
hommie about the man, which attaches one to him before 
one has had time to appreciate his original and very effec- 
tive powers of humor. He was very diffident on his first 
appearance, and never perfectly gained confidence. His 
manner of mingling gravity and grins is irresistibly comical. 
'His smiles,' aptly observes a brother critic, 'are like fits 
of sunshine on a cloudy day.' A Yankee pedlar is a hybrid 
animal, of a class so thoroughly indigenous, that none but 
a Yankee of native acquaintance with its characteristics, 
could meetly personate its peculiarities. This, Mr. Hill, 
we rather imagine, did for the first time last night. He is 
a valuable addition to Mr. Bunn's corps. When called for 
at the close, his heart was evidently full. We have wit- 
nessed * a return thank' speech from a countryman of his, 
to which Mr. Hill's uncalculating and heartfelt incoherence 
presented an admirable contrast." 



FROM THE LONDON CHRONICLE, NOVEMBER 2, 1836. 

" Drury-Lane. — The entertainments at this theatre last 
night, besides the Siege of Rochelle and Der Frieschutz, 
(two full-grown operas, a musical repast more than suffi- 
cient for the most voracious appetite,) consisted of ' a local 
characteristic sketch, in one act, called the Yankee Pedlar ; 
% or Old Times in Virginia.' This is evidently a genuine 
American production; and it served, too, to bring before 
the English public another American actor of merit. We 
cannot describe Mr. Hill in this part farther than by saying 



YANKEE HILL. 51 

ect, gait, dress, language, and dialect, he com- 
pletely realizes the conceptions we had previously formed 
of the singular race whose representative he is. Some of 
his Yankeeisms were beyond our conception, but the pic- 
ture altogether was delightfully quaint, humorous, and 
witty ; and the audience showed their relish of it by inces- 
sant laughter and applause. The plaudits at the end of 
the piece were prolonged till Mr. Hill made his appearance 
to make his acknowledgments." 



FROM THE LOXDON COURIER, NOVEMBER 2, 1836. 

" Druby-Lawe. — Last night, an amusing trifle, called 
The Yankee Pedlar, introduced a Mr. Hill, a transatlantic 
brother, to a London audience. The story turns upon a 
peddling body (Mr. Hill), who introduces himself, by means 
of an intercepted letter to one Colonel Bantam, a fowl- 
breeding, horse-rearing, Virginian planter, as a jockey to 
ride in a match pending between the Colonel and a friend. 
Having made his way into the Colonel's house, he begins 
to mend the furniture, play the spy upon the daughter and 
her lover incognito : takes money of the last not to discover 
him to the father, and finds it equally worth his while to 
break his contract. Meanwhile, the fraudulency of his in- 
trusion is discovered, and he is entrusted with a note to 
the Colonel's slave-driver, which is intended to procure him 
a small amount of lashes ; but he discovers the intention, 
gives the responsive to the original bearer of the introduc- 
tory letter, and offers to ride for the Colonel's antagonist. 
The Colonel's horse is rode bv the voung lady's love': - , to 



52 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

whom the Yankee pedlar loses the race, and the winner is 
rewarded with a wife. The honest pedlar is full of Yan- 
keeisms, colloquial, moral and gesticulative, which lose none 
of their point in the hands of Mr. Hill. The new actor is 
of an agreeable appearance ; he is slight in figure with a 
particularly-pleasant countenance, and a pleasant smile, 
as far as the very confined nature of the part allowed him, 
Mr. Hill displayed great humor and animal spirits. He 
was cordially received, and his agreeable address soon made 
him friends with the audience." 



FROM THE LONDON JOHN BULL, NOV. 6th, 1836. 

" At Drury-Lane, they have received another 'help' 
from America. Tragedy and comedy have both visited us 
from beyond the Atlantic ; it is but just to the actors to 
state, and also to the public, that their reception has been 
honorable to each. Mr. Hill, as well as Mr. Forrest, has 
established his reputation in his own country ; his experi- 
ment, also, as to how far John Bull would sanction the 
verdict of Brother Jonathan, has been satisfactory to him. 
We are glad of this ; our own players have, in general, 
met with fair and liberal treatment in the States, and it is 
pleasant to return the compliment. The peculiarities of 
the ' Yankees, ' — a class, and not the people of the United 
States, — have been already rendered familiar to us. Ma- 
thews took them off, and so did one of themselves, two or 
three years ago : Mr. Hill comes to England for the ex- 
press purpose of furnishing us with his ' notions ' of their 
oddities, and does it with irresistible humor and effect. 



YANKEE HILL. 53 

He plays at Drury-Lane, the part of a Yankee Pedlar, a 
sleek, plausible, laborious, and enterprising rogue, with, a 
dialect and phraseology to be found universal among his 
fellows, but nowhere else in the world. 

" Of such novel materiel Mr. Hill makes a great deal. 
Every word he utters tells : and the audience roars duriug 
the whole of the time he remained upon the stage. We 
' guess ' he will ' do,' also, in other parts ; and cannot 
fail to be a favorite in all." 



FROM BELL'S NEW WEEKLY MESSENGER, NOV. 6th, 1836. 

" Drury-Lane. — Another actor from America, made his 
bow to an English audience, at this theatre, on Tuesday 
night, — a Mr. Hill, who is said to enjoy considerable repu- 
tation in his own country, as a representative of ' Yankee 
characters.' A new farce, written by Mr. Bernard, was 
produced on the occasion : its title, ' The Yankee Pedlar,' 
Colonel Bantam (Mr. Bartley) has a daughter Nancy, (Miss 
Lee,) whose hand he is anxious to bestow upon a friend ; 
but the young lady prefers a lover of her own choosing, 
and befriended by Hiram Dodge, the pedlar, (Mr. Hill,) 
she prevails upon her father to consent to her union 
with her favorite. Mr. Hill's dry humor amused the 
audience greatly ; and his Yankeeisms created much laugh- 
ter. At the conclusion of the performance, Mr. Hill was 
called before the curtain, when he proceeded to express his 
thanks for his reception, in a speech evidently not ' made 
for the occasion ;' what he spoke came from the heart, 
and we were too well pleased with the manner, to quarrel 



54 



LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 



about the matter of the speech. The other characters, 
mere make-weights, were as well supported as it was 
necessary they should be." 



FROM THE LONDON COURT JOURNAL, NOV. 5th, 1836. 

" Mr. Hill, an American actor of the comic cast, made 
acquaintance with a London audience, on Tuesday night, 
in a local sketch, called the Yankee Pedlar, a broad farce. 
The Yankee Pedlar manages to make his way into the 
house of one Colonel Bantam, (Bartley,) where he in- 
trigues and tricks some fifty or sixty dollars into his pocket, 
by playing spy upon the Colonel's daughter and her lover, 
— hiring himself to the latter as confidant, — and jockeying 
the Colonel into winning a horse-race against his own 
arrangements, and giving his daughter to her lover against 
his will. 

" Mr. Hill is slight in figure, pleasant in countenance, with 
a most agreeable address. He laughs, turns grave, is 
bustling, lounging, solemn, and chattering, by turns. All 
the versatile knavery of the Yankee, with his undeviating 
eye to the main chance, he pictures in right lively style. 
Before the piece was over, he and his audience seemed 
to have grown quite familiar ; and being called on at the 
end of the piece, in accordance with a silly custom, he 
expressed his deep sense of the kind welcome he had 
received, in just so many words." 



YANKEE HILL. 55 



FROM THE LONDON SATIRIST, NOV. 6th, 1836. 

" The next that we have to notice, is Mr. Hill's perform- 
ance of the Yankee Pedlar, in a sprightly and well- written 
piece of that name, from the pen of Mr. Bernard, the author 
of a variety of dramatic pieces, among the rest, that of the 
Nervous Man. Mr. Hill is an exceedingly clever actor ; 
his style is of the most quaint and quiet description : he 
embodies a picture of a thorough-bred Yankee, who sue- 
ceeds only by a sly and fraudulent cunning, in the most 
humorous manner possible. He has already become a 
great favorite, and as characters are capable, as we have 
seen, of being written for him here, we ' guess ' that his 
stay with us will not be very short." 



FROM THE SUNDAY EVENING GLOBE, NOV. 6th, 1836. 

" Drury-Lane. — Mr. Hill, another American performer, 
in a line totally different from that of Mr. Forrest, made 
his appearance at this theatre on Tuesday. A local sketch 
called ' The Yankee Pedlar,' was the vehicle of Mr. Hill's 
peculiar talent, and it is but justice to say, that it was de- 
veloped very cleverly. Everybody has been amused at 
one time or other, by Yankee exaggerations, delectable 
in their very extravagance; in this 'sketch,' there is a 
choice ' batch' of them, delivered in the genuine racy style 
of a ' native.' Mr. Hill's humor is unlike anybody else's 
that we have seen ; it is as quiet as it is quaint and felici- 
tous, and bears the strong impress of truth. He is the 



56 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

smoothest and slickest of pedlars, lies with so much ease 
and comfort, and overreaches with such sly satisfaction, 
that we are glad to make his acquaintance. He, in short, 
gives an exceeding diverting picture of Yankees and Yan- 
keeism, and if he play as well in his future characters, as 
in this, he will always receive, as he did on his first appear- 
ance, a warm welcome. 



FROM THE LONDON SUNDAY TIMES, NOV. 6th, 1836. 

" Drurv-Lane. — "We have this week to record the ap- 
pearance of another American actor of fair promise, on 
these boards, in the person of Mr. Hill, who had previously 
acquired considerable celebrity in all the principal American 
theatres, by his representation of " Yankee characters," a 
line of business that is somwhat synonimous to our York- 
shire country boys. We have hitherto been accustom- 
ed, not ill-naturedly, we trust, to confound everything 
American, by the general term of ' Yankee,' but this is 
quite a mistake. As in England, all rustics are not York, 
so in America, the same class are not all ' Yankee.' It is 
a distinct caste, peculiar to the eastern states, and like our 
Yorkshiremen, is chiefly distinguished by shrewd cunning, 
under the mask of simplicity. Mr. Hill made his debut be- 
fore an English audience, in a farce called ' The Yankee 
Pedlar,' which Mr. Bernard has so adapted to the British 
stage, as to render the main features of the principal part, 
tolerably intelligible. At this moment, we cannot call to 
recollection, any character of our own drama, which bears 
sufficient similitude to it, to afford room for comparison ; but 



YANKEE HILL. 57 

though wholly unacquainted with the original, we may ima- 
gine the portrait given by Mr. Hill, to be a faithful one. 
The piece is. plentifully interlarded with local witticisms, and 
is altogether a, very agreeable bit of broad comedy. Hill's 
acting was easy and natural, sufficiently comic to keep the 
risible muscles of his auditors in constant play, without 
any straining at effect. The Americans call him * little' 
Hill, and so he is ; but his figure, though not colossal like 
Forrest's, is well formed and his features are good, and 
capable of the richest comic expression. Though he had 
not quite so much to do as we could have wished, he has 
certainly made a most favorable impression by his per- 
formance, even of this trifling part. Bartley's Colonel 
Bantam, was an exceedingly happy conception, and it was 
equally well embodied. In parts of this description, Bart- 
ley has no rival. At the fall of the curtain, there was an 
universal call for Hill, who came forward and expressed his 
acknowledgments in modest, but appropriate terms. The 
farce was given out for repetition amid loud plaudits. 



FROM THE LONDON MORNING HERALD, JAN. 4th, 1837. 

"Olympic Theatre. — Last night, Mr. Hill, celebrated 
throughout the United States of America for his correct 
personation of the Yankee character, made the second ap- 
pearance upon these boards in his original part of Hiram 
Dodge, in Bernard's farce of ' The Yankee Pedlar.' 
Having fully detailed the plot and incident of this trifle 
when it was some short time since produced at Drury-Lane 
Theatre, it would be a work of supererogation now to do 
3* 



58 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

so ; — we have, therefore, but little to remark upon the pre- 
sent occasion, further than to record its success here, as well 
as the favorable reception of Mr. Hill, whose performance 
was honored with great and frequent applause. The man- 
ner of Mr. Hill is perfectly quiet, and his acting more nearly- 
resembling that of the late " little Knight," as he was 
called, than any we have since seen ; and his stories, for 
which his countryman has contrived this farce as the ve- 
hicle, are not unlike in their quaintness, humor and minute- 
ness of detail, though, of course, far exceeding it in the 
romance peculiar to the new country, that of " Betty at 
Heckleton Fair," which all who have heard it from the lips 
of the latter, must well remember. The size, therefore, of 
his present arena, is peculiarly adapted for Mr. Hill's per- 
formance, as it enables all to hear, and hearing, few failed 
to laugh outright. The piece was in other respects, well 
supported, and had, in addition, the advantage of new and 
appropriate scenery. 



FROM THE LONDON SUNDAY TIMES, JAN. 8th, 1837. 

" Olympic. — Mr. Hill, the American comedian, whose 
successful appearance at Drury-Lane in the Yankee Pedlar, 
we noticed some weeks back, has been enlisted into the 
ranks of the Widow of Wych-street. Mr. Hill appeared 
here on Monday last, in the same part, and has played 
each succeeding night wi'th increased applause. His quiet 
humor tells better than in the larger house — at all events, 
he contrived to keep the audience in roars of laughter, 
during the whole of this performance 



YANKEE HILL. 59 

(Mr. Hill was acting at this period, at Madame Vestris's 
and the Queen's Theatre, every night.) 



FROM THE LONDON MORNING POST, JAN. 10. 183V. 

" Queen's. — A new piece entitled Caspar Hauser, or The 
Wild Boy of Bavaria, was produced last night at this 
theatre. We understand it is written expressly for the 
purpose of exhibiting the peculiar powers of Mr. Hill, 
whose delineations of Yankee character are very amusing 
and racy. The plot is founded upon a story which made 
much noise about five years ago, but which eventually 
proved to be an imposture. The writer of this piece, 
however, takes the story for fact, with the only alteration 
of conducting it to a happy catastrophe. The piece told 
well ; most of the pictures and positions were very effec- 
tive ; the scenery was good ; and (as the loud applause 
which followed the falling of the curtain, testified) the play 
was decidedly successful. Dr. Lott Whittle, the charac- 
ter enacted by Mr. Hill, was admirably adapted for the ex- 
hibition of those national peculiarities in which that gen- 
tleman is so successful. He is well described by one of 
the dramatis persona as an " anythingarian" — a sort of 
Yankee Caleb Quotam, with the same variety of calling, 
but more quickness of resource and a harder intellect. He 
describes himself well, when, in answer to the question of 
" where he took out his Doctor's degrees,'' he says, " I did 
not do it by degrees; I jumped into it at once." At the 
fall of the curtain, Mr. Hill was unanimously called for 
and loudlv cheered. 



60 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 



FROM THE LONDON CHRONICLE, JAN. 11, 1837. 

" Queen's Theatre. — A new piece entitled ' Caspar 
Hauser, or The Wild Boy of Bavaria,' was produced on 
Monday at this Theatre. The plot is founded upon a story 
which made much noise about five years ago. The piece 
told well, and was decidedly successful. Dr. Lott Whittle, 
the character enacted by Mr. Hill, was admirably adapted 
for the exhibition of Yankee peculiarities, in which that 
gentleman is so successful. At the fall of the curtain Mr. 
Hill was unanimously called for and loudly cheered." 



FROM THE LONDON DAILY ADVERTISER, JAN. 11, 1831. 

" Queen's Theatre.- — On Monday evening, Mr. Hill, the 
American Comedian who has acquired so much celebrity 
in Yankee land, made Ins first appearance at this heatre. 
The piece, however, which is purely of the melo-dramatic 
school, had been got up with the utmost care and attention 
to scenic effect, and it proved exceedingly attractive and 
successful. The chief star of the piece, which seemed to 
have been written entirely for his introduction, was Mr. Hill, 
who personated Dr. Lott Whittle, a kind of nondescript 
comic creation, framed for the purpose of delineating the 
Yankee countryboyism. This gentleman's style of acting 
is exceedingly modest, and we can readily believe true to 
the life. He strains not an atom, but speaks his author, as 
the original would do. This may not at first take the fancy 
of every one who associates the idea of comedian with some- 



YANKEE HILL. 61 

thing very much out of the way ; yet we were pleased to 
see that the audience were caught by his style, and were 
exceedingly liberal in their applause. At the conclusion of 
the piece, the expression of approbation was tremendous ; 
and it ended with Mr. Hill being under the necessity of 
presenting himself before the curtain. His Americanisms 
were really very quaint and amusing. 



TROM THE LONDON TRUE SUN, JAN. 11, 1837. 

" Queen's Theatre. — Mr. Hill, the American Comedian, 
appeared at this theatre last night, in a new piece called 
1 Caspar Hauser, or the Wild Boy of Bavaria.' Mr. Hill 
sustains the part of Dr. Lott Whittle, an everythingarian ; 
but particularly great in medicine and painting. Those 
who have read Lord Stanhope's interesting account of 
Caspar Hauser's imposture, for such it was at last discover- 
ed to be, will find that the actual circumstances are follow- 
ed pretty closely in the drama. He is made, however, to 
be the lost heir of a noble family, his uncle being the Baron 
Rhemfelt (Mr. S. Johnston.) The Baron has an only 
daughter, Eva, (Miss Clifford,) who discovers the wild boy 
in his loan retreat. She saves him, and leads him into the 
haunts of men, and has him carefully educated. They 
become mutually attached and are to be united, when 
Caspar is stabbed by a villain named Grippes wald (Mr. 
Reed,) who aspires to the hand of the young lady. The 
murder is discovered through the agency of Dr. Lott 
Whittle, and the piece concludes. Miss Grey sustained 
the part of the Wild Boy with considerable ability, and con- 



62 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

trived to make him a most interesting person. The chief 
burden of the piece, however, fell on Mr. Hill's shoulders ; 
but he seems to delight in such difficulties, for he kept the 
audience in constant laughter. The humor Of his new 
character, is broader than that of the Yankee Pedlar, and 
we thought that Mr. Hill seemed to enjoy the fun of the 
part in a higher degree. He sang two songs very humor- 
ously, and showed that he knows well how much may be 
gained by keeping back a talent until the proper moment 
arrives for its display. There is one particular in which 
Mr. Hill has no rival — and that is his manner of telling a 
story. He introduced several last night, and the effect 
was irresistible. The piece was much applauded, and was 
given out for repetition amidst loud acclamations. Mr. 
Hill was called for after the fall of the curtain. 



Mr. Hill afterwards played in all the principal towns of 
England, Scotland, and Ireland, and in every place received 
the enthusiastic applause of large and brilliant audiences, 
attracted by his name and fame. During his sojourn in 
Great Britain he made many valuable friends. His en- 
gagements, however, were of too pressing a nature to allow 
him much time for social pleasures. The following familiar 
and friendly letter from the Honorable Mr. Murray, will 
serve to show how difficult it was, at this time, to put a 
finger upon Mr. Hill. 

"Leamington, Feb, 23, 1837. 
" Mr Dear ' Blowiiard :' — I am really vexed at the ob- 
stinate pertinacity with which a certain 'gentleman in 



YANKEE HILL. 63 

black with a forked tail ' seems to contrive that we should 
never meet, although both are in this little island ; for, no 
sooner do you move to the north, than I am carried off to 
the southern districts, and your letter has hunted me from 
Dunmore Park to Oxford, thence to London, and thence to 
this place, where I am sojourning with my mother, who 
is an invalid, and drinking the mineral waters of this Spa : 
and now, as your letter is dated the 13th ult., I know not 
where mine may overtake you, or whether it will ever 
reach you at all, as you seem to be on a flying tour, of 
which I know not the ultimate destination ; but I will 
address it to Edinburgh, and merely assure you of my 
sincere regret that our house should be empty, and all the 
family absent, while you are in the neighborhood ; it has 
been but a sad and melancholy dwelling since my poor 
father's death, but you should have had a bottle of good 
Madeira, and a hearty welcome ; and you shall still have 
both, if you will visit us in the autumn, when the families 
are all at their country seats ; whereas you are rambling 
through the country, when every soul is in London, attending 
the court and the parliament. Pray let me hear something 
of your proposed movements, and let us see if we cannot 
induce the gent in black to allow us to meet somewhere 
to have a few hours' chat about Johnny Wrath and his 
merry crew. Believe me very sincerely yours, 

" Charles A. Murray." 
" To G. H. Hill, Esq." 

Mr. Hill was in Edinburgh when he received the fore- 
going letter. The following extracts from the Scotch 
papers sufficiently show how highly he was appreciated in 
the ''land o' cakes:" — 



64 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 



FROM THE EDINBURGH SCOTCHMAN, FEB. 15th, 1837. 

'* The Theatre. Mr. Hill, the celebrated American come- 
dian, and personator of ' Yankee country boys/ — as the 
play bills have it, — commenced a short engagement here 
on Wednesday evening, in the character of a ' Yankee Ped- 
lar,' an odd mixture of shrewdness, wit, and cool impu- 
dence, in the representation of which Mr. Hill displayed a 
degree of talent which shows him to be an actor of consid- 
erable ' mark and likelihood.' His line of character is some 
degrees below the highest on the stage ; but, nevertheless, 
there is no want of room in that line for the display of 
good acting. What we admire most in Mr. Hill, is the 
admirable command which he seems to possess over his 
comic powers. He does not throw away his efforts upon 
so many separate and unconnected ' hits,' or exhibit any 
haste to distinguish himself all at once ; but, repressing 
and bridling in his piquant humor, he pursues ' the even 
tenor of his way/ chastely and quietly, trusting not to 
petty details, but, as the poet says of beauty, ' the joint 
force and full result of all,' for the admiration and applause 
of his audience, which here, at least, has been accorded to 
him most warmly. The representation of Yankee charac- 
ter, besides, is new to us in this quarter ; and the very 
novelty has a charm in it, which recommends his acting to 
our liking. We have only yet seen him in this one part ; 
but we understand he is no less excellent in the only other 
character in which he has as yet appeared, — ' Zephaniah 
Makepeace/ a down-easter out of place." 



YANKEE HILL. 65 



FROM THE EDINBURGH CALEDONIAN MERCURY, 
FEB. 16, 1837. 

" Last night Mr. Hill, the celebrated American Comedian, 
whose representations of Yankee clowns have been so at- 
tractive in London, made his first appearance here and was 
very warmly received. We were glad to see this generous 
feeling evinced towards a stranger, because, whatever may 
be our partiality to native talent, it shows that a Scottish 
audience is always ready to acknowledge merit, apart 
from all such extrinsic considerations. The present actor 
has the advantage of presenting to the British public a 
genus quite unknown in our dramatic literature, and, of 
course, the novelty would of itself go far to heighten the 
attraction ; but Mr. Hill has no need to rest his claims on 
this circumstance, as h^s own comic talents afford a far 
more secure basis. The piece chosen for this occasion 
was termed the ' Yankee Pedlar,' being a local sketch of 
American manners, though the other characters are entirely 
subservient to that of the Pedlar, who by his roguery or 
address contrives to bring his fortunes to a successful con- 
summation. Mr. Hill performed the Pedlar, and, as far as 
we could judge, it seemed a most natural representation — 
our opinion being confirmed by several who are acquainted 
with the peculiar manners and eccentricities of the lower 
classes in America. His style is eminently chaste, bearing 
some resemblance to that of Irish Power, who figures in a 
different sphere. Mr. Hill does not seek to overpower his 
audience by any wild freaks or sallies, but he attains his 
end far more effectually by a chaste, quiet, but yet easy 
and flowing vein of humor. In short, often when appear- 



66 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

ing to do nothing he does everything, if we may so express 
ourselves. In several scenes he was much applauded, 
particularly in one, where a Planter, having written a letter 
to his overseer, and dispatched the same by the Pedlar, 
with his instructions to give the bearer 100 lashes, the 
Pedlar, with an intuitive caution, which seemed his forte, 
peeped into the fatal mandate, and seeing its contents, 
dexterously selects another bearer. He afterwards rejoins 
the Planter, who, confident of the success of his stratagem, 
eyes his man with amazement on hearing him ask, with a 
cheerful countenance, if he had any farther commands. 
He was met, however, by a look from the Pedlar equally 
knowing and expressive, which convulsed the house with 
laughter, and evidently showed Mr. Hill to be an actor. 
At the close of the performance the applause continued 
long and loud, until at last Mr. Hill made his appearance, 
and with great good taste simply confined himself to an- 
nouncing the piece for repetition. We feel confident that 
the public will avail themselves of this opportunity of wit- 
nessing this actor in a new and interesting field of dramatic 
adventure." 



FROM THE EDINBURGH COURANT, FEBRUARY 16, 1837. 

" The Theatre. — Last night Mr. Hill, an American per- 
former, who has acquired considerable celebrity in this 
country by his delineation of American manners and pecu- 
liarities, appeared, for the first time in Edinburgh, in an 
admirable farce, entitled " The Yankee Pedlar." Mr. Hill, 
of course, sustains the principal character ; and the quaint 



YANKEE HILL. 67 

simplicity of bis appearance and deportment, the amusingly 
cool self-possession with which he pushed forward his own 
interests, his quiet humor, and his sly sagacity, told with 
irresistible effect on a very numerous audience. His en- 
gagement, we observe, is announced for only eight nights, 
but we are sure his performances will become so popular 
as to induce the manager to extend it." 



FROM THE EDINBURGH OBSERVER, FEBRUARY 17, 1837. 

" Wednesday Evening, Mr. Hill, the American Comedian, 
came before the Edinburgh audience as ' The Yankee Ped- 
lar.' He was received with enthusiastic courtesy, and in a 
few minutes established his claim to approval. His ap- 
pearance is prepossessing, and his countenance (and his eye 
especially) expressive of sly humor — and, without meaning 
anything offensive, assuredly, to his national feelings, we 
may say he presented, in the shape of the Pedlar, some of 
those traits which we should guess belong to that class in 
Yankee land, an order who can take gain in the form of 
money from opposite parties, and ' then stand upon prin- 
ciple.' His performance throughout was ' tarnation ' and 
* cantankerous ' clever, and kept the house in an unceasing 
convulsion of laughter. Without the aid of prophecy, we 
venture to predict both the piece and the performer will 
be prodigious favorites among us. When it was finished, 
there were loud and continued peals of laughter and ap- 
plause, indicating that he was called for, and another mem- 
ber of the corps who came forth to announce a repetition 
(we suppose) having got a hint to retire, Mr. Hill re- 



68 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

appeared, and intimated that ' The Pedlar' was to be pro- 
duced the following evening. The announcement was 
received with loud plaudits. Mr. Hill is evidently a first- 
rate performer in his walk, evincing the most perfect ease, 
and that semblance of nature which, without serving effort 
or art, is, in reality, an achievement of the highest art. 



FROM THE EDINBURGH EVENING POST, FEB. 18, 1837. 

" The Theatre. — Mr. Hill, the celebrated American co- 
median, has been with us during the week. His chief walk 
is the down-easter, or regular Yankee, a character sui 
generis, and well worthy of a representative on the stage. 
Mr. Hill seems to have studied the class most perfectly ; at 
least we can have no doubt of the natural effect of his 
performance. Nothing could appear less of a caricature : 
and yet he renders the character most entertaining. His 
performance proves him a first-rate comic actor, in some 
respects not inferior to Liston, of whom he strongly re- 
minds us. The dialect of Yankee and peculiar slang of the 
tribe are conveyed with most amusing effect by Mr. Hill : 
but perhaps the richest part of his performance is the droll 
impudent stare which he assumes when he wishes to be 
perfectly and particularly slicJc. Altogether, we consider 
Mr. Hill's personations capital embodiments of character, 
only less laughable because they bear the stamp of truth. 
We should say that we have few comic actors on our stage 
to be compared with him." 






YANKEE HILL. 69 



FROM THE EDINBURGH OBSERVER, FEB. 21, 1837. 

'• Mr. Hill continues to delight, by his masterly delinea- 
tions of the Yankee character. If ever there was a man 
of talent in his art, it is this American. He has the finest 
and most expressive eye that ever spoke more eloquently 
than words ; he is gifted with a taste and discrimination 
which never allow him to exaggerate, even where that were 
pardonable ; and, to use a low term, very well understood 
in high places, however, there is no humbug about him." 



FROM THE EDINBURGH JOURNAL, FEB. 22, 1837. 

" Mr Hill, the American comedian, has been engaged for 
a very few nights, and takes his leave on Tuesday. We 
regret his departure, and hope it may be postponed. This 
clever actor introduces us to an entirely new line of char- 
acters, — for the Yankees of the stage have been, hitherto, 
mere caricatures, while Mr. Hill's performances are fin- 
ished pictures, bearing the impress of nature in every line. 
His rich and inexhaustible humor is never obtrusive, and 
the quiet way in which he goes on developing the charac- 
ter, without the slightest straining after ' making a point,' 
resembles the style of Keeley and Irish Power. Like the 
latter, too, he is a capital hand at telling a long story in a 
way which keeps one's attention unweariedly on the stretch. 
He has a fine, good-humored face, and a capital voice. We 
have been delighted with the little we have seen of him ; 



70 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

and should like much to -see more of him than his en- 
gagement, (if unextended) will admit of. 

" On Tuesday, Mr. Hill takes his benefit, when, if the 
favor he meets with is proportioned to his merits, there 
will not be an empty seat in the house." 



FROM THB GLASGOW COURIER, MARCH 9, 1837. 

" Theatre Royal. Since our last notice, Mr. Hill, the 
American, has been increasing in attraction, in the charac- 
ter of Hiram Dodge, the Yankee Pedlar. He has also sus- 
tained, with equal success, another character, but nearly 
of a similar nature in all its essential features, namely, Dr. 
Lott Whittle, an ' American travelling artist of all work,' 
in a melo-dramatic piece, entitled ' Caspar Hauser, or the 
Wild Boy of Bavaria,' in which Mr. Hill has greater scope 
for the development of his Yankee peculiarities. In it no 
point of any consequence was omitted : it was a full em- 
bodiment of the character, and left nothing farther to be 
desired. His humor was inexhaustible ; his style of acting 
inimitable." 



His last engagement in Scotland was in Glasgow. As 
the time grew near for the termination of his European 
tour, he became more and more anxious about home, and 
was impatient for the day to come when he should leave 
the scenes of his triumph, for the more solid joys which 
awaited him. at his fireside. The letter which 1 give below, 



YANKEE HILL. 71 

addressed, to Mrs. Hill from Glasgow, -will express his 
feelings at this time, much better than I could give them : 

" Glasgow, March, 1st, 1837. 
" My Love ; — Having a few spare moments, I will occu- 
py tbem by writing once more to thee. I have just laid 
down my flute, after playing ' Home, sweet home? and oh, 
how that air comes home to my feelings now. Though a 
few days will find me embarked for my native land, it 
appears that the time never passed so heavily, and I must 
repeat once more, that if my God will suffer me to meet 
you again, we will not separate, till one or both shall be 
called to another world. I was, last night, dreaming of 
you, and that you clung to me in an hour of deep distress; 
I partly awoke, and turned to speak to you, and say it was 
but a dream, but found no one near me. I was alone, in a 
melancholy, cold room, and naught to cheer me but the 
moon's rays. I arose from my bed, put on my morning 
gown, and sat by the window, I should think, an hour. 

' Silent [ gazed on the midnight sky, 
While sad was the spell that bound me,- 

The pale moon shed, from her arch on high, 
The gift of her glory around me.' 

" I made my first appearance here on Monday last : 
the house was full, and my reception as warm and enthu- 
siastic here as in Edinburgh. I play here ten nights. 
I've been buying you some Scotch presents, to-day, which 
I think you'll be pleased w T ith. Tell the children that 
father will not forget them ; they shall have some delightful 
presents when I return, I have many engagements offered 



72 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

me now, but having made up my mind to sail on the 20th, 
or 24th inst., have been obliged to refuse till I return. Do 
take good care of yourself and children, and pray fervent- 
ly, as I do, that my journey may be a safe and speedy 
one to the bosom of my dear family. 

" Yours, as ever, fond and true, 

« G. H. Hill." 
" To Cordelia Hill, God bless her." 



Mr. Hill sailed from Liverpool in March., 1837, in the 
ship United States, Captain Holdridge. On his homeward 
passage, as he had been when outward-bound, he was the 
life and soul of the "goodlie companie." On his arrival in 
New York, he was immediately engaged by Mr. Simpson to 
make his first appearance after his trip to Europe at the 
Park. On this occasion, he appeared in a piece called 
" The Pedlar,' the same which was written for him by 
Mr. Bernard, and played with such success in England. 
His reception was of the most enthusiastic and flattering 
kind. The house was crowded from pit to dome, and 
when he made his entree, it was many minutes before he 
was allowed to speak, for the applause which greeted his 
return. He played to overflowing houses every night 
of his engagement. In the month of June he visited 
Louisville. This was about the time when that disastrous 
re-action took place, which followed the speculating epi- 
demic of 1835 and '6. Whilst he was in Louisville, the 
following lines appeared in one of the daily prints of that 
city: 



YANKEE HILL. 73 

" In these dull times of care and sorrow, 

When tribulation fills each breast, 
When every merchant dreads the morrow, 

And notes and protests haunt their rest. 
Nature ne'er made a mortal fitter, 

The worried heart with joy to fill, 
Than that delightful, humorous critter, 

That soul of frolic Yankee Hill. 

" Others may strut with tragic brow, 

In tragic tones their grief make known, 
Such serious themes don't suit us now, 

Wit we would have, not fun alone. 
A Yankee Pedlar opes his pack, 

Of recipes each care to kill, 
In Louisville, there is no lack 

Of friends, to welcome Yankee HilL 

" Where'er he travels, east or west, 

O'er rugged roads or stormy waters, 
No favorite e'er was so caressed 

By wit's gay sons and bright eyed-daughters. 
When souls with welcome mirth are gushing, 

And Fancy's sparks with rapture thrill, . 
When the full founts of wit are rushing, 

Be there to charm us, Yankee Hill " 

He next appeared in Cincinatti ; he was a great favorite 
in the Queen of the West, whose citizens always assembled 
in crowds, to welcome his appearance among them. He 
played a short engagement next in Boston, and then re-ap- 
peared at the Park in New York. He was advertised to 
play Solomon Swop in " Who wants a Guinea," but Mr. 
Hackett placed an injunction upon the Theatre. The in- 
junction was, however, soon removed, and Solomon Swop 
4 



74 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

made his bow with the more unction after the initiation 
into the mysteries of the Court of Chancery. Solomon, 
although threatened with a suit, did not get into any of 
the bad habits usually acquired by gentlemen of the long 
robe. 

He then went to Philadelphia, and from thence to 
Washington. He was here an accredited Ambassador 
from the Court of Momus, and right welcome was he in a 
place where motley is so much the wear. Men worn out 
with the ponderous duty of making laws, or jaded with the 
more arduous task of feathering their own nests, or making 
new ones for their friends, were glad to turn aside and en- 
joy the pleasant entertainments offered by Mr. Hill. The 
farces annually played in Congress, are only entertaining 
to the players engaged, being altogether what actors call 
" too talky for the mass." These beside, being monstrous- 
ly expensive, are got up with such an utter disregard to 
place, unity and time, that it is a wonder almost, the ma- 
nagers have not shut up the Theatre long before this, and 
put the performers to some more congenial employment. 

Mr. Hill was always successful in Washington, for his enter- 
tainments were of a character to attract the attention of the 
best people there. I have now before me complimentary 
letters from Mr. Clay, John Quincy Adams, and others, 
all expressive of their appreciation of Mr. Hill's talents as 
an actor. Among the incidents and anecdotes related in 
another part of this book, will be found a speech delivered 
by Mr. Hill, on the Oregon question, so that it will be seen, 
that whilst he had an eye to maintaining the humor of his 
country, he had a most patriotic regard to the other great 
interests of the land. After putting matters right in 
Washington, he returned to New York, which place he left 



YANKEE HILL. 7o 

ia a tew days, to fulfil an engagement at Albany. On his 
voyage up the North River, he was seated in the cabin 
reading a newspaper, when _he observed an odd-looking 
individual reading over his shoulder. Mr. Hill looked up 
in his face, when the fellow, with his hands in his pocket, 
and not in the least disconcerted at being caught in so 
impertinent and unmannerly an act, exclaimed " Any news 
in particular ?" 

" No sir ; will you accept the paper ?" 

" Oh no, can't ; ain't got time. It's the first time I've 
been up this River, and I want to be looking reound. 
How can they take a fellow up this river for a dollar and 
found. They can't dew it. It's a take-in." 

"How is that?" 

" Why they charge one dollar to take you in, and when 
you git up to Albany, you've got to pay another dollar to 
get eout. Got this place all fixed up so. Sophy's all 
reound tew. I never use Sophy's myself, but once courted 
a gal by that name, and it looks a kind o' natural to 
see Sophy's reound ; and them stuffed -bottom chairs eout 
there. I thought I'd set deown on one on 'em ; by thun- 
der, I jumped up three feet. Oh, I'll be darned if I didn't 
think I was sitting down on sombody's baby. You see I 
chaw tobacco ; grandfather chawed, and father he chaw- 
ed, and mother, she — eh — no, she didn't, she snuffed, so 
you see I have to keep running up to expectorate — as our 
doctor says, overboard. I expect I shall have to go again 
in about a minute." 

M You need not take that trouble, sir," said Mr. Hill, 
" here are spittoons." 

"Spittoons! Oh, yes, I know'd what them was for, but 
they've got 'em brightened up so, I didn't like to nasty 'em. 



76 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

I went to the The-ater to see you t'other night. Didn't 
you see me ? I sot right in front of you." 

" No, sir, I did not." 

" Wal, I don't suppose you could ; there was a hull lot of 
fellers there. I got jammed in. I had on a striped vest, 
the fronts were new, but the backs being made of cotton, 
sometimes will give eout. By golly, I got tew laughing, 
so away went the back, slitted right up to the collar. I 
was a little the tornest critter you ever did see." 

" I am very sorry for your misfortune," remarked 
Mr. Hill. 

li Oh, you needn't fret abeout it, Mr. Hill. I shouldn't 
a wore it much more nor three weeks longer, anyhow. 
You see I never wear my best clothes to sich places, 
'cause it kind a rips them eout a leetle. I had a bet abeout 
you, Mr. Hill. Some feller said you was bora on Long 
Island. I told him you wasn't, you was born down-east." 

" You were right, sir, I was born in one of the eastern 
States." 

"There, I know'd you was, 'cause I know'd you couldn't 
get along so well as you did, if you wasn't born deown 
that way somewhere. Have you been in Massachusetts ?" 

" Yes, sir," said Mr. Hill. 

" Been in the State of Maine ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" Been in New Hampshire?" 

«•' Yes, sir." 

"Ah. Maybe you was born there? They've got a 
good many Hills." 

" No, sir, I was not." 

" Wal, you might have been. Ever been in Vermont ?" 

" Yes, sir." 



YANKEE HILL. 77 

" You know old Zeke Hill?" 

"No, sir." 

" Nor I nuther, but I've hearn tell there was such a fel- 
ler, didn't know but you might have known him tew." 

" Have you ever been in Connecticut ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" Ever been in Rhode Island ? that little bit of a thing 
in there." 

" Yes, sir." 

" Have you ever been in Boston ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

Having thus obtained nothing very satisfactory from 
Mr. Hill, in relation to his birth-place, he commenced ask- 
ing him if he had been to the Capital of this State, and 
then the other, until he had got through the whole of 
them ; he then, to Mr. Hill's astonishment, commenced with 
the country towns, doubtless with the hope of hitting at 
last upon the one in which Mr. Hill was born. Mr. Hill, 
getting a little out of patience, said, " I presume, sir, you 
wish to ascertain where I was born ?" 

" Wal, yes, I shouldn't mind knowing, if you have no 
objection to tell, and if you had told me before, you would 
have saved me a darned sight of trouble." 

" Well," said Mr. Hill, " I was born in Boston, in the 
year 1809, on the 8th day of October, at six o'clock in 
the morning." 

" At six o'clock, eh ?" 

" At six o'clock precisely, down in Water street." 

" Dew tell. But Mr. Hill, dew you remember the number 
of the house V 

This was carrying inquisitiveness to the very extreme, 
and would have been very annoying to any man but one 



78 



LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 



engaged like Mr. Hill in enlarging a gallery of odd pic- 
tures. 

After finishing his engagement at Albany, he went to 
Boston. He was next to play at Baltimore and Richmond ; 
he deferred the latter engagement, however for a time, in 
order to play for a complimentary benefit tendered to his 
old friend and author, Samuel Woodworth, Esq. The be- 
nefit came off at the Bowery Theatre, and resulted in the 
substantial gain of $1500 to the beneficiary. I am told by 
those who were present on this interesting occasion, that 
he never played so exquisitely before. Every look he gave, 
every word he uttered, told with immense effect upon the 
charmed audience. My informant remarks, that he seemed 
almost inspired. Knowing as I do, the benevolence of 
Mr. Hill's heart, I can readily understand the inspiration 
he felt, for he knew that the poet's heart would be made 
glad by the results of his exertion, and it threw a spirit 
into his acting, which mere personal gain could not have 
done. Mr. Hill was at all times ever ready to assist the 
needy and deserving in his profession. He appeared for 
benefits time after time : often with great inconvenience to 
himself, and almost always with a loss in a pecuniary point 
of view. 

After the benefit, he proceeded to fulfil his deferred en- 
gagements at Baltimore and Richmond. He was very 
much dissatisfied with the company at the latter place, for 
they were not only deficient in dramatic ability, but also in 
respectability of character, and nothing was more galling 
to Mr. Hill than to be obliged to appear with persons of 
this description. 

In the month of December, 1837, he went *to New 
Orleans. Several incidents which occurred to him in that 



YANKEE HILL. 79 

city will be found in another part of this work. Mr. Hill, 
during this visit labored under a nervous depression, that 
rendered him very miserable. He felt so depressed at 
times, that it was with difficulty he could be urged to play 
at all. Sometimes, even when dressed for a part, he has 
wished to give it up, and would on many occasions have 
done so, if he had not almost have been pushed upon the 
stage by the Manager. It is a singular thing, that the 
moment he came in view of the audience, he seemed a 
changed being, and not a soul in front who looked upon 
his laughter- provoking face could have believed for a mo- 
ment, that he was the wretched being he really felt him- 
self. This state of health continued upon him for some 
time ; so bad did he feel, that when, in a short time after- 
wards he was playing in Philadelphia, he always had a 
physician w T ith him to feel his pulse and look at his tongue 
every time he came off the stage. To those who are un- 
acquainted with the witch-like character of a nervous af- 
fection, this may appear almost incredible, but any one 
who has suffered from a similar affection will readily sym- 
pathize with the sufferings he felt. 

Mr. Hill was now preparing for his second visit to Eng- 
land. He played a farewell engagement at Boston and in 
New York, and on the 26th of May, 1838, sailed for Liver- 
pool, in the packet ship Sheffield, Captain Allen. Mrs. 
Hill accompanied her husband on this occasion. In nine- 
teen days from the time of leaving New York, Mr. Hill and 
lady landed in Liverpool. He lost no time in that town, 
but as soon as his luggage could be got through the 
Custom House, proceeded to London. He was engaged 
at the Haymarket Theatre, and made his first appearance, 
after his return, in the comedy of New Notions, playing 



80 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

the part of Major Enoch Wheeler. This piece ran with 
great success for one entire month. He played for two 
months at the Haymarket, and then went to Edinburgh. 
He was a great and deserved favorite in Modern Athens. 
Mr. Hill's health which had been much improved by the 
sea voyage began to suffer somewhat from his residence 
ashore, but his spirits were better, nevertheless, than they 
had been before leaving home, for Mrs. Hill was with him 
to cheer and sustain him with her attention and affection. 
He left Edinburgh and sailed for Dublin. He caught a 
severe cold immediately on his arrival in Ireland, so that 
on the first night of his appearance he was scarcely able to 
make himself heard. He soon recovered from this and 
made himself heard to great advantage, for few strangers 
have appeared on the Dublin boards who gained warmer 
friends or left behind a more pleasing impression. During 
his sojourn in Dublin, he made an excursion to a country 
town, a few miles from the city, for the purpose of picking 
up odd notions for future use. He attended a meeting 
which was called together for the consideration of the pro- 
priety of building a new jail. Mr. Hill made note of the 
following items . 

"Resolved. — That a new jail shall be built on the same 
spot on which the old one now stands." (Carried unani- 
mosuhj.) 

" Resolved. — That, for the sake of economy, the materials 
of the old jail should be used in the construction of the 
new one." (Carried.) 

" It was moved by the Rev. Mr. Phalem, that for fear 
the prisoners should escape, that the ould jail should not 
be taken doion until the new one was built" 



YANKEE HILL. 81 

Mr. H. next appeared in Liverpool, then at Nottingham 
and Birmingham, and in each place won fresh laurels. 
In the inside of the coach which Mrs. and Mr. Hill took at 
Birmingham for Nottingham, was a fine, portly old dame, 
whose conversational spring seemed to have been wound 
up and warranted not to run down, until everybody else 
was. She was scarcely seated in the stage when she com- 
menced by addressing Mr. Hill, thus : 

" Sir, do you know Mr. S ?" 

" No. madam." 

" Dear me, why I thought everybody knew him ! He 

is brother to , who married Mrs. G.'s daughter ; very 

respectable people in Birmingham ; and there is Mr. A., he 
has a son in the army, a wild young man, although I sup- 
pose — black moustaches — you have never — dark, curly 
hair — seen him ?" 

The old lady waited for no reply, either from Mr. or 
Mrs. Hill, but ran on : 

" This is a beautiful country along here," she continued. 

" That is the seat of Lord ; splendid place, is it 

not ?" 

" Yes, madam." 

" He married Lady , and they say she is not so 

happy with him as she would be with some other person. I 
don't know, myself, but people will always have so much 
to say. Strange thing, people will talk, talk, talk ; for my 
part, I can't see the sense of it. What a fine child you 
have. Is that your child, sir ?" 

" Why, madam, the belief that I am the father of my 
own child, is one of those romantic sources of mundane 
pleasure that I fully indulge in at the present moment." 

" Yes, sir, no doubt. Look here, pupsy-tupsy, look at 
4* 



82 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

this picture. I stop at Higby ; I have friends there, and 
my house is not far off. Where do you go, sir ?" 

" To Nottingham, Madam." 

" Nottingham is a fine town, sir ? — is it your home ?" 

" No, madam." 

" You go there to see friends ? Have you ever been on 
the railroad ?" 

The coach suddenly stopped at an hotel, when the old 
lady left the stage and met an acquaintance with whom she 
shook hands, and immediately opened her lingual battery. 
Just as the coach was leaving, the old lady toddled up to 
tjhe coach door and called out to Mr. Hill, " Sir, sir, I may 
want to speak of you to my friends ; will you be so kind as 
to give me your name." Before a reply could be given, 
the four spanking bays of the road had separated the par- 
ties for ever. 

Mr. Hill returned to London, to play a short engagement 
previous to his departure to France. There appeared in 
one of the London papers, an article, which Mr. Hill 
thought reflected a little strongly upon his countrymen, 
and he addressed the following note, which the Editor had 
the fairness to publish. 

" No. 5, T^istock Row, Govent Garden. 
Dec. 17th, 1838. 
" Sir : — I find in your paper of yesterday, an article 
which speaks of me as the ' representative of the peculiari- 
ties of my countrymen. '" 

" Now I beg to state, that I only profess to give, what I 
know to be a faithful picture of the rustic ' Down-easter? 
the ' Ywkshiremari of America, as they are sometimes 
styled. As it regards a gentleman, they are the same in 






YANKEE HILL. 83 

all countries: and neither ' Hiram Dodge 1 the Pedlar, nor 
* Major Wheeler'' of the Penobscot Militia, have any preten- 
tions to such a title. Yours, respectfully, 

■« G. H. Hill." 

Mr. Hill, having obtained his passports, proceeded to 
Paris. This trip was undertaken more for the benefit of 
his health, than for any professional purpose ; but there 
were in Paris a great number of English and American re- 
sidents, who insisted upon his giving a few entertainments. 
They could not think of allowing him, of whom they had 
heard so much, escape them, without his giving a touch of 
his quality. The following letter addressed to Mrs. Hill, 
who remained in London, speaks of his arrangements. 

" Ever Dear Cordelia : — I am in Paris, and have made 
arrangements to act at the theatre where the English Com- 
pany played, and have the favorable opinions of all as to 
the success of the, undertaking. I was very sea-sick cross- 
ing from Dover to Calais, and strained till I brought up 
some blood, which alarmed me very much. The journey 
in the coach fatigued me, so that I am not myself exactly 
yet, but hope to be in a few days. The moment I com- 
mence operations, you shall hear froja. me again (God wil- 
ling.) Write often to me, for a favorable line from you 
will keep me in spirits. 

" Yours, sincerely, fond and true, G. H. Hill." 

"Jan. 23d, 1839." 



Mr. Hill, gave two entertainments in the French Capital 
with eminent success. The French critics, although, 



84 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

perhaps, scarcely comprehending the humor of the down- 
east phraseology, saw in him and so esteemed him, a Come- 
dian of rare endowments. 

During his sojourn in Paris, he attended a Masquerade 
Ball, in which he appeared in his favorite Yankee character. 
It is customary at these entertainments for the masquer to 
reveal his face before entering the room. Mr. Hill, in obe- 
dience to the rule, took off his mask ; he had scarcely 
shown his face when some person cried out " Why, Yankee 
Hill ;" and his hands were instantly seized and almost 
shaken off from his body in the excessive joy of the person 
who had so quickly recognized the American Comedian. 
There is something deliciously pleasant in these unexpected 
meetings, thousands of miles away from home, even where 
the parties in their own land were not very intimately ac- 
quainted with each other, as was the case here. The gen- 
tleman who so cordially took Mr. Hill by the hand, had 
never before exchanged a word with him, but he had sat 
many an evening at the Park Theatre and enjoyed his com- 
pany with unspeakable delight, and he thought this fact, and 
the magical name of countryman, was justification enough 
for exercising the privileges of a friendly recognition. 
When the stranger left America, Mr. Hill was playing at 
the Park, and he was not aware of his visit to Europe until 
he saw him under the circumstances I have just related. 
Among the stories, collected by themselves in another part 
of this book, will be found a sketch of the American Poli- 
tical loafer. I give below, one of a French loafer, whom 
Mr. Hill met in Paris. 

Of all characters well calculated to excite the risible fa- 
culties, and appeal to the sympathies of the human heart, 
beyond doubt it is the unfortunate and destitute French- 



YANKEE HILL. 85 

man. There is such a mingling of the gay and cheerful, 
with the sombre and melancholy, and so rapid are the 
changes of feeling, that it is not wonderful, if we have 
sometimes thought the French people as shallow and su- 
perficial in feeling, as they frequently are, in what are called 
accomplishments. But amid all the privations to which 
the Frenchman may be reduced, his motto seems to be 
1 nil desperandum." I once encountered a Frenchman of 
this character in Paris, and amid the glitter and festal 
blaze of that theatre of fashion, he seemed as lonely as 
some mouldering ruin of past centuries amid the gaudy 
architecture of the new world. Said he, — '• JSTo sar, I sal 
not take any charitie, but I will tell you what I will go do 
I will go by ye river, and jump myself in, and they sal 
see me no more nevare. But, poor Marie ! No ! no ! I 
sal do no such sing. I sal no kill myself, for she sal then 
starve ; but, Monsieur, I sal starve myself, and I sal live 
starving, and Marie sal fare magnifique, and I sal live 
starving to be happy, and see her live as well. No, no, I 
sal no kill myself.'* 

In two hours from that time I met him again, his counte- 
nance wearing a smile of almost cheerfulness, apparently 
having satisfied himself with the uncomfortable philosophy 
of going without eating. 

The French loafer in this city is, perhaps, after all, of a 
higher class than we have ever mentioned. He saunters 
along by himself, looking the picture of despair ; he neither 
solicits alms, nor does he complain to all. He has appa- 
rently made up his mind for his fate, and alternating be- 
tween despair and brightening hope, he lingers out his ca- 
reer until relieved by the charity of others or by death. 

The French loafer, by choice, is to be found in the 



86 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

billiard room, — the Cafe, — the Saloon, and but too often 
in the halls of our fashionable citizens, who, sometimes, 
with a desire to improve acquaintance, and appear some- 
what more aristocratic, endure the burden of their com- 
pany, fascinated by that most magical and meaning word 
a French Count. The first-mentioned lives at the billiard 
table ; he is usually an expert player, or, in other words, a 
blackleg ; and can win or lose as it suits the purposes of 
the game. He has usually a large dark eye, extensive 
whiskers, and hair hanging down over his neck of the most 
glorious description. He utters more " Got dams" and 
" sacre die us" than would set up a whole committee of 
politicians for twelve months. The last-named order of 
loafer, is the especial delight of ambitious mothers with 
marriageable daughters, and the daughters, perhaps un- 
unwilling to thwart the benevolent intentions of their 
mammas are fascinated by the " dear, delightful Count," 
until some sensible brother, or upright, honest father, finds 
the said Count to have been an impostor, and, after a few 
parting hysterics, surrenders the toy, and wonders they 
" ever could like him." 

Before leaving Paris, a public dinner was tendered Mr. 
Hill by his friends and admirers, and they included some 
distinguished French gentlemen, almost all the American 
and English residents, then sojourning in the gay capital. 
Mr. H. with health improved and in gay spirits, returned 
to London to fulfil an engagement at the Haymarket. He 
opened on this occasion with a new piece entitled a " Wife 
for a Day," written expressly for him by Mr. Bernard. 
The play was eminently successful. On the first night of 
its representation, Mr. Hill was called out, and he announ- 
ced the repetition of the piece every night until further 



YANKEE HILL. 87 

notice, amidst the cheers and applause of the gratified au- 
dience. It ran without interruption for an entire month. 
Whilst in London this season, he produced Seth Slope with 
success. Mr. Hill paid £30 sterling for this, but for each 
of the pieces written for him by Mr. Bernard, he paid forty- 
pounds, or about two hundred dollars. In the summer of 
1839, Mr. Wallack, the manager of the National Theatre, 
of New York, visited England, for the purpose of obtaining 
attractions for his establishment. He met with Mr. Hill in 
London, and over-persuaded him to accept a starring 
engagement at the National. He was announced at that 
establishment among the attractive stars secured by the 
manager, to the great gratification of the play-going public. 
He now completed all his arrangements, and left England, 
in the British Queen. The late Mr. Price came passenger 
with him, and, during the passage, used all his rhetoric to 
induce Mr. Hill to engage for the Park, but without effect. 
Mr. H. fulfilled his engagement with Mr. Wallack, much 
to his own misfortune and loss, as it eventuated, in conse- 
quence of the destruction of the National by fire. After 
playing his term at the Park, he appeared in October, in 
Boston, where he was received, after his absence, with the 
utmost enthusiasm. He left, after this, for Philadelphia, 
and returned to Boston again in December. Mr. Hill used 
to relate with great unction, the well-meant, but equivocal- 
ly expressed good wishes, of an Irishman who used to 
make the fires in his room at the hotel. Mr. H. had been 
in the habit of giving little presents and orders to the 
theatre to his good-natured attendant, which won his heart. 
He made him such tremendous fires, that he almost roast- 
ed him. When Mr. H. was leaving the Tremont House, 
the Irishman was very officious in helping the porter with 



88 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

the luggage. When the luggage was all arranged in the 
coach, and Mr. Hill was seated, ready for the start, Pat 
raised his cap from his head and exclaimed, " Good-bye to 
ye, Mr. Hill — long life to yer honor ; I hope I shall have 
the pleasure of making fires for you hereafter." 

In the Spring of 1841, whilst in Boston, he appeared as 
Richard, in a burlesque on the tragedy. In the last scene, 
the person playing Richmond accidentally gave Mr. Hill a 
severe blow upon the face. Thinking he was seriously 
injured, he rushed from the stage : the prompter met him 
at the side and said, " Mr. Hill, you did not die." He 
returned immediately, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I 
beg pardon ; I left out an important part of the piece ; I 
have quite forgotten to die." He then took up a violin, 
and playing a simple tune, laid himself down and died, as 
calmly as though nothing had occurred to interfere with 
the peace of his last end. How common it is for men, 
playing on the stage of real life, to forget the dying scene, 
notwithstanding the promptings so plainly, forcibly, and 
frequently given. The audience, on the occasion I have 
just related, had too much of a fellow feeling in this for- 
getfulness of death, to feel aught but good humor at the 
ready manner in which Mr. Hill repaired his error. 

Mr. Hill was one of those few fortunate men who were 
in the possession of a happy fireside. No matter what 
distance his duties may have placed him from his home, 
what success crowned his efforts, what attractive gaieties 
may have gained his passing admiration, his face always 
turned to his own hearth, the East of his adoration. In 
reading his letters to his wife, bearing dates from the 
period of his first professional absence from home, to the 
time when his fatal sickness seized him, I have been struck 



YANKEE HILL. 



89 



with the almost romantic attachment which they exhibit 
towards the partner of his bosom. No professional triumph 
or success seemed to be complete until Mrs. Hill had 
marked them with her approval, and no disaster could long 
depress his spirits when the smiles of his wife and children, 
and the cheerful influence of his own fireside, were within 
reach of his enjoyment. 

Mr. Hill's home feelings never deserted him through 
life : his attachment to his wife and children knew no 
abatement. He was gifted with an uncommon flow of ani- 
mal spirits, and he took as much delight in projecting 
little entertainments for his children, or winning a laugh 
from his wife by some grotesque assumption of character, 
as he did in laboring for the amusement of the brilliant 
audiences which assembled to witness his efforts. 

In writing the biography of a man, the task is but half 
completed if only the great points of his career are re- 
corded. In circumstances likely to come under public 
notice, men are on their guard, and act with caution. We 
can judge of the ability of an actor on the stage, but it is 
behind the scenes that we must go to study the character 
of the man. To say that Mr. Hill was a great comedian, 
that he personated this or the other character with exqui- 
site truthfulness, only excites the curiosity of the thinking, 
to know how he appeared, acted, thought and spoke when 
he was himself. The world is very apt to think and do as 
the countryman, who, when thrown accidentally in com- 
pany with a celebrated actor, asked him " to be funny," 
and was wonderfully disappointed to find that the comic 
actor had his serious and thoughtful moments. 

In all that related to the higher duties, which devolve 
upon a father towards his children, Mr. Hill was seriously 



90 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

impressed. Their moral and intellectual education re- 
ceived an attention commensurate with its importance, and 
although he would often enter into their sports and enter- 
tain them with odd personations and imitations, they knew 
very well no license, if unseemly, or disobedient conduct 
could be drawn from this. 

In a profession surrounded with such temptations to 
convivial enjoyment, as is that of the actor, Mr. Hill must 
have been more than human, if he could at all times have 
avoided a participation in them. An attendance upon 
public festivities and private parties are among the sacri- 
fices which an eminent actor must make ; and I have often 
thought, that too little allowance is made for the apparently 
gay life the actor sometimes leads, considering the urgent 
demands continually made upon his time and company. 
An actor lives upon the approbation of the public, and 
although he may desire to live in private ever so much, he 
must take the public by the hand, off as well as on the 
stage ; and he is thus, perforce, compelled to submit to pur- 
suits and pleasures foreign alike to his tastes and inclina- 
tions. Mr. Hill, would, at all times, if left to his own se- 
lection, have preferred the quiet joys of his own fireside to 
the most sumptuous entertainment ever offered for his ac- 
ceptance. 

The approbation of his wife was to him a sine qua non 
to every novelty, he intended to produce before the public ; 
and, when on the first trial of a new entertainment, he had 
Mrs. Hill among his auditors, so placed, that he could see 
her, he was perfectly happy if she seemed pleased and 
entertained. Had Mr. H. been any other sort of man than 
what he was, — if you please, dissipated, thoughtless, gay, 
— the satisfaction he felt, simply from the approbation of 



YANKEE HILL. 91 

the partner of his life, displayed an integrity and soundness 
of heart which would safely guard the fireside from the 
invasion of evil influences. 

Mr. Hill was very fond of taking his family by surprise 
after an absence, and would sometimes appear at the door 
of his dwelling so disguised, that even his own children 
knew him not. He used to tell an incident of this kind 
with great relish, because, in this case, he not only deceived 
his children, but his wife, and this was a triumph not to be 
held lightly. He went down town one evening, on some 
business, which detained him until after dark. When he 
reached his home he gently opened the door with his latch 
key, closed it and stood quietly in the hall. It was but 
the work of a moment to disarrange his dress, crush his 
hat down upon his head, and assume the reckless dishabille 
of a drunken man. He then made some sort of noise to 
call the attention of the family to the fact that some one 
was there. Mrs. Hill sent her little boy to see who was 
at the door. It was but a minute, and the little fellow re- 
turned in alarm, telling his Ma, that there was a drunken 
man standing in the hall. Mrs. Hill, her servant girl and 
the children were alone in the house, and as drunken men 
are not apt to be over nice and delicate in their conduct, it 
will be admitted, that such an intrusion was well calculated 
to produce alarm. A council of war was held for a mo- 
ment, and it was resolved, boldly to face the enemy. Fe- 
male arms are the most powerful weapons in the world in 
the wars of love and friendship, but they are powerless in 
defensive attacks, so that it was deemed prudent in the 
present instance that the alarmed family should die, at 
least, with harness on their backs, and each seizing upon 
the family arms, represented here by shovel, tongs, poker, 



92 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

broom, &c, the army marched up stairs to the attack. 
Mrs. Captain Hill courageously led the way : she was the 
first to mount the stairs from the basement ; on reaching 
the top she paused to collect her forces : this done, she 
marched boldly on, resolving to do or die. It was no false 
alarm ; there, sure enough, stood the enemy. The foe was 
struck with amazement at the belligerent attitude of his 
own household, but unable longer to resist the ludicrous 
position of his family, he burst out laughing and declared 
himself vanquished. Arms were recovered, and all joined 
in the mirth inspired by the trick. 

It would be a tedious as well as unprofitable pursuit, to 
follow Mr. Hill through the various stages of his theatrical 
career, after his return from England, to the time of his 
decease, although embracing a period of nearly ten years. 
He appeared, again and again, in all the principal cities of 
the Union, pausing occasionally at some country place, 
generally at the earnest solicitation of the inhabitants, to 
relieve the tedium of their country-town life with his eccen- 
tricities and drolleries. For several years, dating from 
1840, theatrical affairs throughout the whole Union were 
in a very depressed condition. The re-action which fol- 
lowed the excitement caused by Fanny Ellsler, the ruin 
produced to managers by a persistence in the starring 
system, the lecture and concert mania which prevailed for 
several years, all tended to depress dramatic affairs. From 
1840 to 1845, Mitchell's Olympic was tha only theatre in 
the city of New York, in a prosperous condition. The 
Park opened and closed with convulsive efforts at re-anima- 
tion, until it fell, exhausted by its own efforts. It passed 
from the hands of Mr. Simpson, who had controlled its 
fortunes for nearly thirty years, into the hands of Mr. 



YANKEE HILL. 93 

Hamblin, who, in his turn, was relieved of its weight by a 
fortunate accident, which burnt down the house, without 
burning his fingers. Mr. Hill appeared occasionally in 
this city during these times of depression, and with quite 
as much, if not more success, than other stars who appeared 
at that period. 

In the years 1844 and 1845 he resided in Fourth Ave- 
nue, near Union Square, New York. Returning home one 
evening very late, after performing, he was startled by the 
sobs of a female he saw sitting on the stoop of a house, 
close by where he was passing. She was weeping bitterly. 
He was not the man to pass heedlessly along, leaving a 
fellow-creature by the wayside in trouble, without making 
an effort to allay, or to relieve it. He questioned her of 
the cause of her distress. She did not seem disposed to 
reply, until, at length, overcome by the kind tones in which 
she was addressed, told her sad, but, alas, too common 
story. She had been enticed to the city by a treacherous 
villain, under a promise of marriage. He took her to a 
house of infamy, on their arrival in the city, and left her 
there alone, promising only to be absent long enough to 
transact some necessary business in another part of the 
city. 

Ere he came back, the poor girl had learned the charac- 
ter of the house in which her deceitful lover had left her. 
Without waiting his re-appearance, and without the 
knowledge of the degraded inmates of the house, she made 
her escape, and had been wandering about the city until 
Mr. Hill, fortunately met her. He himself was a father, 
and with a father's care conducted the poor wanderer to 
his own dwelling, where she received, in the kindness of 
Mrs. Hill, another evidence that the race of good Sama- 



94 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

ritans is not quite extinct in the world. The next morn- 
ing Mr. Hill sent the girl home to her parents, who were 
residing in Middletown, Connecticut. 

On the 1st of January, 1847, Mr. H. gave an entertain- 
ment at the Broadway Tabernacle, to a very large and 
brilliant audience ; numbering, as I am informed, about 
three thousand persons. In the opening of the same year, 
he went to Batavia, N. Y., to fulfil a contract made be- 
tween him and a gentleman of that town, for the country- 
seat now occupied by the widow, Mrs. Hill, and her inte- 
resting family. The last theatre in which Mr. Hill appeared 
was Mitchell's Olympic. He played a starring engagement 
here of twelve nights, drawing excellent houses. I saw 
him several times on this occasion, and thought I had 
never seen him play with more freshness and spirit. Dur- 
ing the last twelve months he employed his time profes- 
sionally, in giving lectures here and there, returning as 
often as he could to his house in Batavia, loaded with 
golden profits. He was essentially a domestic man, and 
never was so happy as when in the midst of his family. 
Without any pharisaical ostentation of religion, Mr. Hill 
was careful to inculcate in the members of his family a due 
observance of their religious duties. There are a great 
many unchristian professors of Christianity, who are un- 
able to reconcile, in their austere and contracted minds, the 
existence of a religious sentiment with the pursuits of the 
actor. They judge him as they themselves would not like 
to be judged, viz. with the mask on. They do not follow 
the player to his home, and watch him in the bosom of his 
family. They take no count of the private bending of the 
knee, the humble supplications which he offers at the foot- 
stool of God's Almighty throne, but taking him as he ap- 



YANKEE HILL. 95 

pears in the midst of his vocation, fling him to perdition 
without hope or charity. I do not claim for Mr. Hill that 
he was what is appropriately enough, I think, called a 
professing Christian, that is, he did not 

" Display to congregations wide 
Devotions every grace, except the heart ;" 

but he was a practical one in charity and good feeling 
towards his fellows. He had, besides, a sustaining confi- 
dence in the providence of God. No trouble ever weighed 
upon him, but he found in this reliance a cheerful hope of 
speedy relief. This feeling, whether a superstition of reli- 
gion, rather than a principle evolved by a reasoning faith, 
always kept him up in the hour of trial, and consoled him 
under every difficulty. This feeling grew with his growth, 
and, during the last few months of his existence, he was 
seriously impressed by his spiritual condition. Whatever 
appeared in his entertainment, which could, by any possi- 
bility be construed into anything offensive to the purest 
taste, was carefully excluded, and he even went so far as 
to ask several eminent clergymen, if they saw anything in 
his entertainments, " contra bonos mores." 

In May, 1848, Mr. Hill appeared in Brooklyn, before 
immense audiences. He was always a favorite in that city, 
and ever attracted the best people of the place. In the 
summer he played also at Sharon Springs, and then in 
August, visited Saratoga for the purpose of lecturing to 
the fashionables collected there. He was taken sick soon 
after his arrival. He had advertised to appear on a cer- 
tain evening, and, although it would have been better had 
he broken his faith in this case, and nursed himself up 



96 LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF 

for future labors, he could not make up his mind to do so, 
and after consulting his physician, who consented to the 
step, he left his sick bed and proceeded to the lecture 
room. He was behind the time advertised for his com- 
mencement, and when he entered he was greeted "with 
marked signs of disapprobation. He mildly rebuked the 
audience, by explaining the cause of his detention, and 
more in sorrow than in anger, remarked, that in the course 
of his varied career, he had often waited with patience for 
an audience, but he had never till this moment kept an 
audience waiting. The audience felt the rebuke, and with 
ready contrition, cheered and applauded him then and 
during the whole evening. How little do the audience 
know, or even care, for the suffering which the actor some- 
times endures, when he is most successful in contributing 
to their enjoyment. The bills of the day are out, the 
theatre is filled with beauty and fashion, and the enter- 
tainment must come off though the principal actor may be 
tortured in body, ready to sink with sickness, or perchance, 
as I have known, torn from the bedside of a sick wife, or 
dying child, to fret his hour upon the stage, convulse 
others with laughter, whilst his own tortured heart was 
swelling with agony, almost to bursting. Mr. Hill left the 
lecture-room for his bed, from which he never rose again 
in health. He was ailing for some time before his symp- 
toms became so alarming as to render it necessary to send 
for Mrs. Hill : at length this became necessary. She re- 
ceived the sad missive, and hastened to the couch of her 
beloved husband. Her presence was so inspiring in its 
influence upon him, that there seemed a distant hope that 
he might yet rallv and be restored to her ; but alas ! such 
hopes speedily vanished and gave way to the solemn con- 



YANKEE HILL. 97 

viction that his battle of life was fast drawing to a close. 
Mr. Hill himself had been for some time under the impres- 
sion, that he should not live long, and when he was attacked 
with the bilious diarrhea, he never nattered himself 
with the hope of recovery. The Rev. Dr. Milledolar 
payed him frequent visits during his sickness, in fact, was 
daily with him until his death. Mrs. Hill never left his 
bedside for a moment, and frequently, when the labor of 
speaking was too much for him, would he turn his still 
sparkling and expressive eye towards her, and in looks, tell 
of the love and affection of his heart. He retained the full 
possession of his senses until a few hours of his death. 
The sad, awful moment at length arrived, when the ties 
which bound him to this world were to be unloosed, and 
the spirit set free. Mrs. Hill sat by his side. He appeared 
to be calmly sleeping. A soft smile played upon his lips. 
His breathing was gentle as an infant's. She, whose 
heart had known no other lord, whose affections had known 
no alteration save in increase of growth and strength, sat 
sadly by and watched his sweet and gentle slumbering, 
and could hardly realize that death could be so near. 
The lips parted, a gentle sigh escaped, and the "wheel at 
the cistern had ceased to turn for ever." 

He died on the 27th of September, 1848, in the 40th 
year of his age. He was buried in the cemetery of Saratoga. 
The Rev. Mr. Babcock, of Ballston, performed the fune- 
ral ceremonies at the house, and those at the grave side 
were conducted by a chaplain of the order of Odd Fellows, 
of which institution Mr. Hill was a worthy member. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 



99 



MR. HILL VISITS WASHINGTON. 



In 1846, Mr. Hill paid a visit to Washington City. He 
was there during the excitement which prevailed upon the 
Oregon question. It would have been impossible, perhaps, 
for a man of much less excitable temperament than Mr. 
Hill, to have been in Washington at that time, and have 
escaped the patriotic epidemic which then prevailed to 
such an alarming extent. His patriotism became rampant, 
and he opened the flood-gates of his eloquence, and poured 
forth such a powerful stream, that all who opposed his 
views were nigh swept from the face of the earth. The 
speech which he made in Washington, night after night, to 
immense audiences, will be found carefully reported below. 
Daniel Webster might possibly have made a more solid 
speech, Clay a more eloquent one, John Quincy Adams, 
one more fruitful of sage experience ; but neither of them. 
I will venture to say, could have made one quite like it. 
But let the reader judge for himself. 



SPEECH ON THE OREGON QUESTION. 

" Whoia ! here I am, and intend, in a very few and 
expressive terms, to speak my sentiments. Mr. Speaker, 

101 



102 YANKEE HILL. 

I have come all the way from Oregon, to see, in behalf of 
my afflicted neighbors, who live a considerable distance 
apart, and I want to know, what in thunder you're about 
here, in this comfortable location, while your fellow-coun 
try men, who are not allowed to emigrate north of the 
Columbia River, on account of a raging he- calf who is 
bla-ting on the other side ; but, thunder and squashes ! can 
this longer be borne ? No ! Can the free inhabitants, who 
have emigrated there with the full belief that protection 
was to be extended to them from the great republic, bear 
the yoke of British law and British tyranny ? No, sir ! we 
expect you to guard us from the sneers and insults of sav- 
ages, subject and give us aid, and to plant the standard of 
our country immutably on the 54-40, and, if anything, a 
leetle north. Powder and gun-flints! must we give up 
what is clearly proved by many of our great men — and 
though not set down in Webster's Spelling Book — to 
belong to us ; will any man, who has pure American blood 
coursing through his veins, say, let it go, 'cause we're 
afraid to fight? No, sir! no! it is not in the natur of 
Liberty boys to allow any usurpation of our rights : let us 
be guided by Crockett's motto, 'First, be sure you're right, 
then go ahead? I've killed four horses, worn out three 
pair of trousers and a pair of saddle-bags, besides spending 
all my money, to come here, and I must know before I go 
back, which way the cat jumps, or both countries shall hear 
from me, to their entire satisfaction, sooner or later. I've 
left my grandmother, father, wife, three children, six cows, 
two hosses, eighteen sheep, a gross of turkeys, geese, hens, 
chickens, a black dog, and a gray cat, who fondly look for 
my return, and I wish to know, without the shadow of a 
doubt, whether we are to be protected, or not, by this 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 103 

government, or are we tew be trampled under the iron 
hoofs of Europe's roaring Bull. We are strong and true at 
heart for our country, but we are as yet too few in num- 
ber to offer just resistance. Give us a chance for a few 
years, however, and we will then look out for ourselves. 
Yet the time is not far off, when the locomotive will be 
steaming its way to the Rocky Mountains, with a mighty 
big train of cars running after it. Yes, the whistle of the 
engine will echo through the South-west Pass, and sharply 
hint to the free people of that great territory the approach 
of hundreds and thousands tew. who are to be their neigh- 
bors. No, sir, the time is not far distant, when our com- 
merce with China will equal that of all the world ; when 
the Pacific Ocean will be crossed with as much ease as the 
Frog pond on Boston Common. Yes, Mr. Speaker, as my 
eloquent friend from the Hoosier State remarks, ' Men of 
blood, and friends of General Washington, and that old 
hoss, General Jackson, I want your attention. Lightnin' 
has burst upon us ; and Jupiter has poured out the He of 
his wrath. Thunder has broke loose and slipped its cable, 
and is now rattling down the mighty Valley of the Missis- 
sippi, accompanied by the music of the alligator's hornpipe. 
Citizens and fellers ; on the bloody ground on which our 
fathers catawampously poured out their claret free as ile, 
to enrich the soil over which we now honor and watch 
with hyena eyes, let the catamount of the inner varmint 
loose and prepare the engines of vengeance, for the long 
looked-for day has come. The crocodile of the Mississippi 
has gone into his hole, and the sun that lit King David 
and his host across the Atlantic Ocean, looks down upon 
the scene, and drops a tear to its memory.' I am with 
/»- onr} y-yVr <he stars of Uncle Sam, and the stripes of 



104 YANKEE HILL. 

his country, triumph and float in the breeze, whar, whar is 
the craven, low-lived, chicken-bred, toad-hoppin', red- 
mouthed mother's son of ye who will not raise the beacon- 
light of triumph, smouse the citadel of the aggressor, and 
press onward to liberty and glory ? Wha-ah ! Hurrah ! 
where's the inimy ?" 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 105 



THE MUSICAL FAMILY. 



In the fall of 1843, Mr. Hill was travelling one night 
through the woods of Georgia in a stage coach. It was 
pitchy dark, and the driver, mistaking the road, left the 
right track and upset the coach. There were quite a num- 
ber of passengers, and among them a very corpulent Ala- 
bamian planter. Fortunately, Mr. Hill had matches. A 
light was quickly struck, and the passangers soon got out 
of the coach in which the shock had huddled them in a 
heap. The fat planter caused some little trouble in lifting 
out his unwieldy carcass. None of them were seriously 
hurt. Mr. Hill always carried a sort of medicine chest 
with him, and he was enabled to administer to the bruised 
and wounded secundem artem. The kindness and attention 
he displayed to his fellow-travellers on this occasion, so 
won upon the feelings of the Alabamian, that he insisted, 
and would take no denial, on Mr. Hill going home with him. 
The planter was such a good-natured, kind-hearted, jovial 
fellow, that Mr. Hill could not resist his importunities, and 
so consented to accompany him home. He was well re- 
ceived at the hospitable mansion of the planter. He was 
a widower, with a grown up son and daughter, his house- 
keeper, a maiden sister. The maiden sister was particular- 
ly gracious to Mr. Hill, for it was not often that a strange 
male critter found his way to their secluded fireside. In 
5* 



106 YANKEE HILL. 

the evening, when the wine had circulated a little freely, 
the host proposed to have some music. " Come, sister," 
said he, "sing Mr. Hill, 'Is there a heart that never 
loved.' " 

" Oh, brother," replied the ancient maiden, screwing her 
mouth into a pucker, and turning her head affectedly, " I 
really can't." 

" No can'ts here, sister ; you don't want Mr. Hill to 
find out how old you are. Come, you must sing, for I want 
to show him that we are rather a musical family ; so come, 
tune up." 

Overcome by her brother's peculiarly persuasive and 
eloquent manner, the maiden lady gave another twist of her 
mouth, and commenced in a sharp, shrill voice — 

" Is there a heart that never loved ?" 

The key in which she sang, might have been the cellar 
key, for any resemblance it bore to anything appertaining 
to music. She had not sang half the first stanza, when her 
brother interrupted her. 

"Sister," said he, "you are all wrong: — my son, see it 
you can succeed better." 

This young man was a bony gawky, of about seventeen 
years of age. His voice was a mixed breed ; one some- 
thing between a manly bass and childish treble. He 
began — 

" Is there a heart that never loved ?" 



The first three or four words were sung in a deep bass, 
and the rest of the line in a high tenor. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 107 

'' Pshaw," said the father, " why you can't sing it either. 
Are you frightened at Mr. Hill ? Hear me, I'll try" 

£t Is there a heart that never loved ? 
Or felt soft woman's sighs." 

The old man puffed and blowed through the entire song, 
much to his own satisfaction. 

U There, Mr. Hill, what do you think of that ?" 

" It is very well, sir, but it is not exactly as I have been 
in the habit of hearing it." 

" Indeed ! then, Mr. Hill, I wish you would let me hear 
your way." 

" Mr. Hill then commenced, 

»' Is there a heart that never loved V 

and gave it, of course, correctly. 

li Well, well, that is all very well, and very nice, I dare 
say, but I think I can do that song pretty well for a bass 
voice ; but, lord ! it's all a matter of taste ; some would 
like yours and some mine. Mr. Hill, won't you. tell sister 
one of your funny stories?" 

11 Oh do ! he, he, he !" sniggered the maiden. «« Oh, 
do!" 

Mr. Hill looked her earnestly in the face and began : 

*' Did you ever hear of Deb Hawkins ?" 

" No, sir, he, he, he !" said the old lady, unconscious 
that Mr. Hill Lad commenced a story. " No, sir, I never 
heard of her in all my life." 

"She is a shocking nice gal. Shouldn't wonder if she 
could make pumpkin pies good enough to make a fellow's 



108 YANKEE HIH,. 

mouth water. You see, I once courted her a little, just 
to see how it would feel." 

"He, he, he !" tittered the old woman, her sympathies 
all excited. 

" Says I to her one night, Deb, ain't you goin' to sit down 
on my knee nor nothin\ (The maiden lady put her hand- 
kerchief to her face.) Says Deb, putting her hand over 
her eyes, ' Oh, git eout, Joe,' so I tuck hold on her, and 
hauled her down. She squirmed round, but I held on of 
course, 'cause I know'd it was the natur of the critter." 

" He, he, he ! What a funny man you are, Mr. Hill." 

" By and by, Deb got quieted down a spell, and took a 
kiss jest as easy." 

" Oh, Mr. Hill, he, he, he !" 

" Oh, she was an all fired nice gal, tew." 

" Did she marry ? he, he, he !" inquired the lady. 

lt I was goin' to say, she was an all fired nice gal to kiss, 
but phew ! what a temper ! It got so hot sometimes, it 
burnt a hole clean through her good manners." 

So passed the evening at the house of the Alabamian. 
Mr. Hill was repaid for the misery of being obliged to lis- 
ten to their musical efforts by being furnished with the ma- 
terial of an entertaining imitation, which was received by 
his audiences with great relish. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 109 



THE NERVOUS ARTIST.— THE GAMBLER 
RESCUED. 



Mr. Hill's third visit to New Orleans was not only highly 
successful in a theatrical point of view, but replete with 
incidents of a character which Mr. Hill remembered with 
great satisfaction. During his passage down the Missis- 
sippi with Mr. Jarvis, an artist from Louisville, they became 
so attached to each other, that on their arrival in New 
Orleans, they engaged rooms in company. The Crescent 
City, at that time, bore quite a different reputation from that 
which it enjoys at present. Persons were frequently 
knocked down, and robbed in the streets, and mysterious 
assassination added its horrors to scenes of brawl and 
rowdyism. Mr. Jarvis was a man of an exceedingly nerv- 
ous temperament, and timid to a degree. He was tremb- 
lingly alive to the danger which, as he supposed, beset the 
stranger at every turn in New Orleans, and always went 
armed to the teeth, although it is very doubtful if he could 
have mustered up sufficient nerve to use his weapons, had 
their use been needed. Besides Bowie knives, pistols, and 
other playthings of this character, he had a dog, and al- 
though it was one of the smallest kind of pet poodles, it 
was quite large enough to suggest to the ready mind of 
Mr. Hill, a sort of placebo to his friend's sense of danger. 
He very seriously printed a placard containing the follow- 



110 YANKEE HILL. 

ing ominous hint — " Take care of the Bog;," which he 
posted up on the outside of their room door. The experi- 
ment succeeded to admiration, having only one little draw- 
back, for it scared away friends, as well as less welcome 
intruders ; for, of course, neither friend nor foe could tell 
from instinct, the size and ferocity of the animal of whom 
they were notified to beware. Things went on very 
smoothly, and Mr. Jarvis' throat was still uncut, and his 
wallet, safe with its contents, whatever they might have 
been, when, in the dead hour of the night, when all the 
world and his wife were fast asleep, Mr. Jarvis was awakened 
by heavy groans, which seemed to come from above, be- 
low, and all around him. Trembling with fear and agita- 
tation, he called upon his friend Hill, in the meantime 
taking his pistols from under his pillow, " Hill ! Hill !" 
cried Jarvis — " for the love of heaven, wake up, or we shall 
be murdered in our beds !" 

" What's the matter ?" asked Mr. H. 

" Matter ! matter enough ! I thought we should not 
get out of this infernal city without being robbed or 
murdered." 

Mr. Hill scarcely comprehending what was the matter, 
nevertheless got out of bed ; the valiant artist did the 
same, and handing a Bowie knife to Mr. Hill, courageously 
led the way to the top of the landing, with the fierce de- 
termination of quietly settling the hash of the supposed 
intruder. 

" Stop ! stop !" said Mr. Hill, " not so fast ; if my ears 
do not deceive me, the groans proceed from that room 
down stairs, and are the cries of some person in distress." 

" Nonsense," said Jarvis, " that's a mere ruse, and if 
we are not careful, we shall hoth be murdered." 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS." Ill 

" I am so convinced," replied Mr. Hill, " of the reality of 
my own suspicions, that I am determined to go to the room 
and ascertain the truth." 

" Don't be rash," urged Jarvis, " they certainly will 
have your life if you go. Let us shoot them down." 

Heedless of the caution, Mr. Hill hurried down stairs, 
leaving his friend Jarvis at the head of the steps shivering 
with cold and fear, with nothing on but his shirt, and a 
pair of large pistols in his hands. Mr. Hill soon reached 
the chamber from whence the groans proceeded. Sans 
ceremony, he opened the door and went in, and there, in- 
stead of encountering thieves and assassins, he found a 
poor woman suffering a maternal agony, without friends or 
attendance. He returned, with the view of sending Mr. 
Jarvis for assistance, whom he found still at his post, his 
pistols pointing down the stairs. 

" Remove your pistols, Jarvis ; don't fire at me ; I'm 
not going to harm you." 

" Well, well," said Jarvis, " have you found the villains ? 
Where are they ? Blow their brains out." 

" You are quite mistaken," said Mr. Hill ; " it is a poor 
woman sick and in need of immediate relief. Go to the 
landlady, and tell her to prepare some nourishment, and 
hasten to the servants' room. Then you retire to your 
room, and I will attend to the sufferer until she gets relief." 

It is hardly necessary to say that it was fortunate for the 
poor woman that Mr. Hill knew of her distress, for it was 
not in his nature to leave anything undone which could 
contribute to her comfort. Twelve months after this event, 
Mr. Hill again visited New Orleans. He was walking 
down the street one day, arm-in-arm with a gentleman, 



112 YANKEE HILL. 

when he saw a decently dressed Irishman and his wife 
hastening towards him. 

" Oh ! sure, Mr. Hill," said the woman, " and it's mesilf 
that's glad to see you ; and isn't this a beautiful child ?" 

" Not a doubt about it, my good woman ; but what have 
I to do with it ?" 

Mr. Hill had quite forgotten the circumstance I have 
related above. 

" Is it what you have got to do wid it ?" said the wo- 
man — "sure it would not have been here, and the image 
of his father, if you hadn't had something to do wid it." 

Mr. Hill began to feel uncomfortable, for he found his 
friend giving him some significant digs in the ribs. 

" My dear woman," said Mr. H. — " you must take me 
for somebody else." 

" Divil a bit ! D'ye think I'd ever forget the face of 
you ? Can I ever forget when you found me alone, and got 
nurses and doctors to wait upon me, when I hadn't a 
friend in the wide world. Mistake you for somebody else ! 
I'd never forget yo i till I die." 

The circumstances of the case were recalled to Mr. 
Hill's mind, and putting n li tie present into the child's 
tiny fist, wislred the grateful couple farewell. I don't 
know how he managed to satisfy his friend's mind, but this 
I know, his own was free from anything but a pleasant re- 
collection of a circumstance which enabled him to render a 
kind service to a fellow-creature in distress. 

On Mr. Hill's first visit to New-Orleans, he formed an 

intimacy with a Mr. S , whom he found a gay-hearted, 

happy, and intelligent companion. On his third visit he 
was grieved to find, that the friend he had left so buoyant 
and gay, was bowed down with some inward sorrow. Instead 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 113 

of, as formerly, seeking the society of Mr. H., he avoided 
it. Mr. Hill was distressed at this, for he knew of no cir- 
cumstance — having a sincere regard for his friend — which 

would justify this distant coolness on the part of Mr. S- -. 

He resolved to fathom the mystery. From some little 
things he had observed, he formed a suspicion of the cause 
of his friend's depression, and he made up his mind, the 
first moment he was disengaged, to inquire further into the 
matter. On one of his off nights, he called at the residence 
of his friend, but he was told by the black boy, that 
" Massa was not at home, but that Missus was, and would 
be berry glad to see him." Mr. Hill, without hesitation, 
followed the servant to the drawing-room ; he there found 

Mrs. S in tears. Mr. H., taking the privilege of an 

old friend, asked her the cause of her sadness. 

" Oh ! Mr. Hill," she replied, " I am very unhappy; I 
have not seen Charles since yesterday morning. He now 
frequently leaves me days together, and seems so altered, 
that I am almost heart-broken." 

"Nay, nay, my dear madam," said Mr. Hill, "do not 
despond ; it may be nothing but a temporary estrangement ; 
some passing excitement which keeps him away. Be of 
good heart, all will yet be right. I made up my mind to 
discover the cause of his avoidance of me, and now that he 
is estranged from you and his home, I have a double incen- 
tive to use every exertion to reclaim the truant." 

With such blessings as a young, affectionate and con- 
fiding, but neglected wife, alone could call down upon one 
promising to restore all she held dear in life, Mr. Hill de- 
parted to put his plans in execution. 

In a remote corner of the city of New- Orleans, was 
situated one of those fashionable dens of vice, where men 



114 YANKEE HILL. 

staked honor, virtue, and fortune, on the turning of a die : 
where swindlers were educated, and assassins learned their 
trade. It was midnight ; and at the faro-table stood one 
conspicuous from the rest, whose face wore an expression 
of unspeakable anguish. His last counter was in his hand, 
and thoughts of home, of wife and children, came crowd- 
ing upon his distracted brain ; but alas! instead of staying 
his progress, the ruin he had brought upon his family, but 
urged him on. Fortune might change, and if once re- 
deemed, he would forswear for ever the maddening game. 
Just as he was putting down his last stake, a stranger en- 
veloped in a large cloak, his face almost hidden with a pair 
of large, black whiskers, and his head covered with a fur 
cap of most uncouth appearance, rushed into the room. He 
looked more like a demon than a human being, and the effect 
of his appearance not only suspended the games, but 
seemed to paralyze the players, for " conscience makes 
cowards of us all." In the confusion which followed this 
sudden intrusion, of they knew not whom, the lights were 
put dut. Mr. S , for it was he who stood so conspic- 
uously at the faro-table, found himself grasped by the arm, 
and led forcibly away. He was too much dismayed by tho 
suddenness of the whole affair to offer resistance, and he 
went whither he was led. When he was in the street, the 
lamp disclosed to him that he was in the hands of the 
stranger whose sudden appearance had produced so much 
commotion in the gambling-house. It was but the work 
of a moment for the stranger to take the whiskers from his 
face, and reveal to the astonished gamester the face of his 
friend, Mr. Hill. 

" Now, sir," said Mr. Hill, sternly, " I hope you have had 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 115 

enough of that infernal place, and will never return to it 
again." 

Overwhelmed with shame and oonfusion, it was some 
time before S could reply. 

" Oh, God !" said he at length, " what shall I do ? I 
have lost every cent I had in the world. I never can look 
upon my wife again." 

" You must see your wife, and that without delay, if you 
wish me to stand by you in this hour of distress. But 
come — let us hasten on, or we may be overtaken by some 
of your associates, and I fancy, from the slight glimpse I 
had of them, neither of us would be very safe in their 
hands. Before we meet your wife, tell me, Charles, what 
you intend to do ; will you, if I refund the money, you have 
lost to-night, promise on your honor, never to set foot in a 
gambling-house again ?" 

" I will, George, my more than brother," replied S , 

overcome by the kindness which offered redemption. " I 
will do all that man can do, not only to recover your con- 
fidence but to deserve it." 

"Enough ; I believe you," said Mr. Hill. " Now I have 
a little explanation to make. A day or two after my arri- 
val in this city, I was persuaded by a friend to visit the 
same hell which you have just left. As I went in, I thought 
I saw your figure retreating from the room. I considered 
the matter well, and the more I thought of it, the stronger 
became the impression that it was you whom I saw. This 
gave me the key to your mysterious avoidance of me, and 
I determined to seek you there : the result you know. 
But to return to my own visit. You know the arts they 
employ to gain the confidence of the unsuspecting, and 
how frequently they will permit the man who is known to 



116 YANKEE HILL. 

have means, to win. They tried this decoy upon me, and 
when I left the room that evening, I was the winner of three 
hundred dollars. I purposed to give this amount to some 
charitable institution — it is yours, Charles, and as much 
more is at your service as you staked at ' that desperate 
game, last evening." 

S was too much overcome to speak his thanks. He 

had in some measure conquered his emotion by the time he 
reached home. They found Mrs. S sitting up, watch- 
ing the return of her truant husband. Mr. Hill did not 

give time for reproaches, but pushing Mr. S into the 

arms of his wife, said, " There, madam, not a word, there will 
be no more absenee from home — all is right. Now, good 
night — God bless you." 

Mr. S is now the father of three blooming children, 

and one of the most prosperous merchants of New- Orleans. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 117 






A MEETING UPON THE SUBJECT OF THE 
PUBLIC PRESS. 



I do not know, whether or not, the characters which 
figure below, at a meeting held for the Quixotic purpose of 
putting down the Press, are the same who recently met in 
New- York, to devise means of stopping the issue of Sunday- 
papers, but if they are not, they might readily be mistaken 
for them, only the error would involve a degree of flattery 
which I do not think the latter deserve. Mr. Hill attended 
the meeting, of which the following is his faithful report. 
Mr. Obadiah Sleek, who presided on this occasion, said : 

" Brethren, we have met here for the purpose of sup- 
pressing the Press. There are many articles in the daily 
newspaper very injurious to the morals of the rising gene- 
ration, particularly the young, and being impressed with 
that impression, I wish to express myself to you, and have 
it impressed on your minds in the most pressing manner." 

The Chairman having delivered himself of this impressive 
speech, sat down. Brother Longjaw now addressed the 
meeting : 

" I have heard the very eloquent and lengthy remarks 
of Mr. Sleek, and I must say I entirely coincide with his 
views. There are a great number of persons in the west- 
erly diggins of our town, who coincide with him tew, and 



118 YANKEE HILL. 

they told me to tell you that they entirely coincided with 
you in your views, let them be what they might." 

Oziah Slimbrain, he spoke : 

"Mr. Cheerman, I don't think as how I ought to say 
anything, 'cause I've got nothing to say ; but if all men 
who spoke at public meetings, didn't speak till they had 
something to say, speakers would be rather scarce. I goes 
in agin papers : what is the good of 'em to a man as can't 
read ? I took hold of one once, but I got it wrong eend 
up. In my young days laming was dear, and I didn't go 
to school but one day in my life, and that was in the 
evening, and the master was not there, all of which con- 
vinces me papers should be put down. Our folks at hum 
would have all come to this meeting, but they've been busy 
making cherry rum, and they throwed the cherries out be- 
hind the barn, and Jedide and the hogs have been eating 
them, and we've got the darn'dest lot of corned pork you 
ever did see. Jedide said it wasn't eating the cherries, but 
swallowing the stones, that corned the hogs. Aunt Jerusha 
was a coming to this meeting, but she's got the measles, 
and she was afraid of making a breaking out in the meet- 
ing, but I made made up my mind I'd come myself, so I 
hitched the old mare up to the waggon, but she came 
along so tarnal slow, that I licked her, and then she slewed 
the old waggon right up agin the fence all to smash. I 
tied the tarnal old critter up with her blind eye to the road, 
so that she'll think she's bang up agin the fence, and stay 
there just as quiet. I don't care now, however, for I have 
got here a darned sight quicker than I should if I'd driv 
her. Now I've got here, I don't know what to say agin 
the papers, more than I think they should be put down. I 
see you are a putting down names ; you may put down all 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 119 

our family — Jedide, Jeruse, and the hogs, if you like — I 
don't care a darn." 

Mr. Slam next rose to address the meeting. It is impos- 
sible to repeat the substance of this gentleman's remarks, 
He appeared to have got up in a passion. Every word he 
uttered was followed by a savage blow upon the table, and 
when he got very much excited, he would strike it a dozen 
times, speaking all the while, but the noise he made com- 
pletely drowned his words. The following is as near a 
report as we can make in writing : 

"Mr. Chairman, (bang!) I presume (bang! bang!) — 
yes, sir, I repeat it — (bang ! bang !) sir, (bang !) certainly 
they should be put down — (bang! bang! bang!) that is 
what — (bang !) with these few remarks, I submit — (bang !) 
my resolution." 

John Hold tight spoke next — 

Mr. Ch — Ch — Chairman, I — I — I — el — abor under s — 
s — su — such di — di — di — difficulties in sp — sp — speaking, 
that I — I bul — bul — bul — ieve I sh — sh — shall say noth 
— noth — nothing about it." 

A stranger got up — 

" Mr. Chairman : John Hopper told me to say to you 
that he was very sorry he could not attend this meeting. 
John Hopper's horse not being shod, he could not attend 
this meeting. If it had been shod, John Hopper would 
have attended this meeting ; but by reason of John Hop- 
per's horse not being shod, he could not come. The man 
who shods John Hopper's horse being out on a drunken 
frolic, he could not get his horse shod, and consequently 
John Hopper's horse not being shod, he could not attend 
this meeting." 



120 YANKEE HILL. 

An effeminate voice from the back part of the meeting 
was then heard — 

" Mr. Chairman : I don't feel altogether clean-handed. I 
have been a good deal lately in the habit of reading the 
papers, and I say, I don't feel altogether clean-handed. I 
have been in the habit of reading the xoeeJclies, being more 
appropriate to a man like me of a weakly constitution. I 
have known some articles appearing therein, which ought 
to have been thrown out, and I don't feel altogether clean- 
handed." 

The Chairman now spoke : 

"I find my brethren, that my views have been com- 
pletely carried out, and when I have stated what I am 
about to state, that I should mention that I mean to state 
this meeting is adjourned." 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 121 



COUSIN GUSS. 



" Whll, how de dew ? I'm right glad to see you, I swow. 
I rather guess I can say suthin' about the Revolution busi- 
ness, purty good yarsion, tew, by jingo. My father, old 
Josh Addams, had his fist in it : any on you know him ? 
Old Josh Addams, as well known as the Schuylkill water- 
works. He was born in Boston : he didn't die there, 
'cause he died in Philadelphia. He used to wear an old 
genuine '76 coat, little cut down to suit the fashion, made 
it a razee. One might have known the old man a mile off. 
If it hadn't been for Cousin Guss, he'd have been livin to 
this ere day. You may see Guss in Chestnut street, — any 
of you know him ? — dressed like a peacock, and got whis- 
kers big enough to stuff a sofa bottom. He went down 
t'other day, to see the wild beasts in 5th street ; jest as he 
was comin' away, he met a hull squad of little children a 
Gomin' in: when they saw Cousin Guss, if they didn't 
squeal like ten thousand devils. The old man says, what's 
the matter, young ones ? Oh dear, papa, see, they've let 
one of the monkeys loose. Cousin Guss didn't show his 
face in Chestnut street for a week. Guss telled the old 
man he must have his coat cut again, and altered to the 
fashion ; so he coaxed old Josh to let him take it down to 

his f as he called him, down in 3d street. Well, 

the good-natured old critter said he might : when he got 
6 



122 YANKEE HILL. 

it back, sich a lookin' thing as it was, you might have 
fallen down and worshipped it, without breaking the ten 
commandments. When we saw it, we all larfed ; sister 
Jedide, she snickered right out. The old man looked at it 
for about a minute, didn't say a word, by jingo, — the tears 
rolled out of his eyes as big as hail-stones. He jest folded 
it up, put it under his pillow, laid himself down on the 
bed, and never got up again : it broke his heart : he died 
from a curtailed coat. 

" The old man used to tell sich stories about the Revo- 
lution. I rather guess he could say a leetle more about 
that affair than most folks. 'Bout six years ago he went 
to Boston, when La Fayette was there ; they gave a great 
dinner at Fanueil Hall. When the Mayor heard Old Josh 
Addams was in Boston, he sent him a regular built invita- 
tion. The old man went, and wore the "76 coat, — that is, 
before it was cut down, though. By-and-bye they called 
upon the old man for a toast. Up he got, and says he, 
' Here's to the Heroes of the Revolution, who fought, bled, 
and died, for their country, of which I was one.' When 
old Josh said that, they all snickered right out. 

" There's one story the old man used to tell about Bos- 
ton, that was a real snorter : he always used to laugh 
afore he begun. He said, down on Long Wharf there was 
a queer little feller, — a cousin of his by the mother's side, 
— called Zedekiah Hales, who wasn't more than four foot 
high, and had a hump jest between his shoulders. A hull 
squad of British officers got round Zedekiah, in State 
street, and were laughing and poking all sorts of fun at 
him : he bore it, cause as how he couldn't help it ; one of 
them, a regular built dandy captain, lifting up his glass, 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 12 

said to him, * You horrid little deformed critter, what' 
that lump you've got on your shoulder?' Zedekiah 
turned round and looked at him for about a minute, and 
says he, ' it's Bunker Hill, you tarnal fool, you.' " 



J 24 YANKEE HILL. 



TWO BIRDS KILLED WITH ONE STONE. 



Mr. Hill, on one of the occasions of his benefit, sent 
persons to every part of the City of Boston, to get all the 

cripples they could find, to call at the office of Dr. , 

— a young physician, at that time, having but a limited 
practice, — where they would receive aid and advice gratis. 
The doctor was not aware of what was going on, but he 
was very much astonished at the sudden increase of his 
practice : his office was besieged with the halt, the lame, 
and the blind. The doctor turned none away, and in a 
great many of the cases, had the satisfaction of doing a 
great deal of good. Public notice was shortly attracted 
to the office of this physician, and he soon enjoyed a large 
and lucrative practice. Many of the patients acted for 
Mr. Hill's benefit, representing the army of Bombastes, 
and such an army of real deformities was certainly never 
seen on any stage before. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 125 



THE TWO FAT SALS. 



If every man were to relate the little romances of love 
in which he becomes involved, at some time or other of his 
life, novelists and farce-writers would be supplied with 
plots and incidents enough to supply publishers and man- 
agers with a continual run of novelties for all times. In 
the story of the " Two fat Sals," which Mr. Hill used to 
relate with such inimitable humor, is recorded the experi- 
ence of one man only, but it affords a very useful lesson on 
the evils of a mind divided in the matter of love, and 
another illustrious example of the truth of the aphorism, 
that " the course of true love never did run smooth." 

" There was two Sals livin' in our town, Sal Stebbins 
and Sal Babit, — real corn-fed gals, I swow. Sal Stebbins 
would lift a barrel of cider out of the eend of a cart as 
quick as any other feller, and drink it tew. Sal Babit, she 
was so fat, she'd roll one way jest as easy as t'other, and 
if anything, a little easier. Well, there was a corn-husk- 
ing, and I went along with Sal Stebbins : there was all 
the gals and boys settin' reound, and I got sot down so 
near Sal Babit, that I'll be darned if I didn't kiss her afore 
I know'd what I was abeout. Sal Stebbins, she blushed : 
the blood rushed right up into her hair : she was the best 
red critter I ever did see. I thought it was all up with 
me, and sure enough it was, for when I asked her if she 



126 YANKEE HILL. 

would go hum with me, she said ' no ; you needn't trouble 
yourself nothin' 'tall 'beout it.' « Well, if you're mind to 
get spunky, I guess I can git a gal that will let me see 
her hum. Sal Babit, shall I go hum with you ?' ' Well,' 
says she, *I don't mind if you dew.' Arter that, Sal 
Stebbins married a feller in our town, by the name of 
Post, — blind in one eye, and deaf in one ear, — jest to 
spite me, nothin' else : so I thought if she was a mind to 
take a feller that couldn't see or hear any tew well, I'd 
better let her slide : so I went away from hum, and was 
gone about three — four — five years ? — yes, jest about five 
years, 'cause I know when I got back she had four little 
Posts. I went to see how she got along. She asked me 
to come in and set down ; so I tuck a cheer and squatted : 
then she tuck another cheer and squatted ; and we both 
squatted there together. Her young ones was all runnin' 
reound on the floor : she pinted to them, and said, in a 
sort of bragging way, ■ You see them, don't you ?' ' Yes,' 
says I, squintin' up one eye, * I see, they're all jest like 
their daddy, blind in one eye.' She was bilin' dumplings 
at the time, and as soon as she see me shut up one eye, 
she out with a hot dumplin', and let me have it in t'other, 
which made me shut it up a darn'd sight quicker than I 
ever did afore, and I haint been in love since that time." 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 127 



A LEARNED SOCIETY. 



New England is studded with learned societies. The 
people of the Eastern States seem to be as curious in 
matters of science as they are in prying into each other's 
affairs. Boston alone, every year, brings out more new 
isms and ologies, than all the other cities in the Union put 
together. I most sincerely believe, that if some vast sci- 
entific discovery were to be made to-day among some 
newly found people, whose language was different from 
anything ever thought of or conceived before, that in a 
week, some Yankee or other would advertise a lecture 
upon the subject, and maybe deliver it in the new tongue. 
The following report of a Learned Society, Mr. Hill at- 
tended in Clamtown, I give as he used to relate it. 



YANKEE CABALA. 

" Old Samuel Winston, Esq., a member of our Histori- 
cal Society in Clamtown, was considered a ' notionate 
critter,' and one of his notions was Cabala. He consider- 
ed himself learned upon the subject. There were belong- 
ing to the same society, a number of the sons of one 
Jacob Bigelow. Said Jacob, had twelve children, and 
these young ones were continually plaguing old Sammy to 



128 YANKEE HILL. 

give a lecture before the society, on Cabalistic Science, or 
show them what it was like. He at length consented, and 
here is a copy of the result of his labor. This diagram 
was unrolled before the society, and the Bigelows in par- 
ticular. — 

"Cabalistic Science is a cute arrangement of picters, 
figures and letters, so as tew mean suthin' and here is an 
example of how sich arrangements due read. (Points 
to 1.) 

" In course nobody kin take offence at what kin be made 
eout of figures and letters, for you kin jist make eout on 
'em what you've a mind tew. None ony ou see offence in 
this ? (Diagram.) 

All answered " No," and the Bigelows louder than the 
rest. 

" Well then, put in your mind that this is the key tew 
the hull science, and you kin here trace it. (Counts Dia- 
gram, One.) 

A member interrupted him with — 

" Wouldn't you like to have a large door key, Squire 
Winston, it might be better to pint the subject eout." 

Winston, — " You better be quiet. I b'lieve you don't 
know Cabala, I b'lieve." 

Another Member. — " Squire, is Cabala any derivation 
from gabble, tew keep up a talkin' ?" 

Winston. — '* You are a fool too, you are, I b'lieve. 
Shut up your talkin'." 

2d Member. — " Well, dew go on with that key. Pa- 
tience, m-a-s-sy, you will be so long, and so tigious, that I 
shouldn't be a mite surprised, if your key got me locked 
eout tew home." 

Winston. — " The key ! that is this key." 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 129 

3d Member. — " Well, dew strike that key, will you ? 
you'll never git through it. I never did see anything like 
the prosy ness of that critter ; dew go on." 

Winston. — " I'll thank you, Mr. President, to keep this 
society a little quieter ; it is gittin tew be a parfect bedlam 
of ignorance, I b'lieve." 

3d Member. — " Dew you mean to say, that you are 
the key stun of the whole society yourself." 

Winstojt. — {Picking up a specimen.) " I mean that I 
will throw a stun at your head, if you don't lock up your 
tongue." 

He proceeds, — 

" Take this key, (points to Jcey,) and place it on this, and 
you kin spell eout Jaeob Bigelow. Kow read down this 
list, (points to names,) and you have the names of his 
sons — critters, at whose persuasion I have gin this lecture. 
Here you have a picter, or set of picters, which in course 
mean suthin', and thus they read. (Names the pictures.) 

" Well, put this key on them picters, and you can spell 
by the first letters with this key, Jacob Bigelow, agin, — old 
Jacob's most sensible expressions on any occasion, was 
'git eout* or ' dew tell,' and by applying the key, here you 
have 'em. Examine the same letters which say this, and 
you see they are the initial letters of the whole family. 
These picters not only spell the old man's name, but they 
exhibit the propensities of his children. (Names in Dia- 
gram 6.) 

" The Bigelow family wanted tew larn Cabalistic science ; 
here is a specimen, heow do they like it ?" 

This is what old Mr. Winston termed a Yan-Tcey way of 
shutting the hull Bigelow family up. Here was a row in 
which all joined. The mystic Cabala had been deciphered, 
6* 



130 YANKEE HILL. 

and the Bigelows struck into a high key. Winston, was 
standing with his divining rod in his hand on a bench, and 
every now and then, you could hear him shout in a roaring 
key — 

Winston. — " It is a correct key, and you may like it or 
not, I b'lieve." 

The Landlady who owned the house, lived in one end, 
and rented the apartments to the Society, with key in 
hand, visited the room, when she broke into a shrill key — 
(She had rented the house to catch a beau from the 
Society.) 

Landlady. — " Oh, gracious ! dew you mean tew ruin a 
widow, jist in her prime, who only owns this house, and six 
others in the town jist like it, and has a new set of china and 
furnitur, and no incumbrances ; I say, dew this Society of 
gentlemen, among whom I see a few widder acquaintances, 
and some bachelors, young and old, who ought to have 
been settled down in life long ago; dew you, by the com- 
bined power of your healthy voices, by shoutin' in this 
eoutrageous key of voice, both young and old on you, mar- 
ried and unmarried, not forgettin' the widowers, I say, 
dew you all want tew, in this manner, break the peace and 
quietness of a poor widow, by breakin' on her up. Ef you 
don't all jist clear out, I'll lock every one on you in the 
house till mornin'." 

The Landlady shook her hey at the Society, and there 
was a Yan-Jcey meaning in it, which broke up the histori- 
cal Cabal, who, on this occasion had become so Cabalistic. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 131 



AN ADVENTURE ON HORSEBACK. 



On one of Mr. Hill's visits to New Orleans, lie rode out 
on horseback with a friend of his, and, as they were pass- 
ing the St. Charles Hotel, his companion said, 

" Hill, I dare you to ride up those steps ;" — meaning 
those which led to the large reading-room attached to that 
magnificent Hotel. 

" You dare me, do you ?" said Mr. Hill. 

" Yes ; but if you will do it, I will forfeit this fifty 
dollars." 

" I don't want your money, but here goes." 

He put spurs to his horse, and quick as a flash was up 
the steps and into the reading-room. It was filled with 
gentlemen engaged in a quiet perusal of the papers, but 
such scampering and confusion which followed the appear- 
ance of the gentleman on horseback, can be better imagined 
than described. They scattered in all directions, while 
the rider, nothing daunted, walked his horse leisurely round 
the room, making a sort of genteel waltz among the chairs 
and tables, When they found who it was that had thus 
intruded his horsemanship upon their especial notice, they 
all enjoyed the joke, with the exception of one old gentle- 
man, who went to the bar and demanded his bill, declaring 
he would not remain a moment in a house where such 



132 YANKEE HILL. 

doings were allowed. Mr. Hill frequently met the irrate 
old gentleman in the street, but he always gave Mr. H. a 
wide berth. He seemed fearful that if he went too near 
Mr. Hill, a horse would spring up under the legs of the 
latter gentleman, and trample him to death. This was, 
I believe, the first and only time Mr. H. performed on 
horseback. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 133 



A ROMANCE OF THE CITY. 



After his return from the West, he appeared in Boston, 
and immediately afterward in Philadelphia. During his 
sojourn in the City of Brotherly Love, he met Mr. G., an 
old associate and confidant of his, who was about to be 
married. Mr. G., on meeting his friend Hill, expressed an 
anxious desire that he should go with him to the house of 
his intended, and see the lady to whom he was about to 
submit his happiness and fortune. Mr. Hill, of course, 
readily consented, for it was not in his nature to refuse the 
performance of an act which would even oblige a stranger, 
still less an old and much esteemed friend. Mr. G. was 
anxious to have Mr. Hill's opinion of the lady of his choice, 
little doubting, perhaps, but that it would' be a flattering 
confirmation of his own judgment. In this, however, he 
was mistaken. Mr. Hill did not see the lady, as did his 
friend, with the eyes of love, and he saw in the gay, affect- 
ed, and coquettish manner of Miss R., a frivolity of mind 
and gaiety of disposition which would be the rock upon 
which the happiness of his friend would surely be wrecked. 
Mr. Hill would gladly have avoided the giving an opinion 
upon the subject, for he knew full well the little weight an 
adverse judgment has with a man in love ; but his friend 
was not to be driven from his purpose, and insisted upon 



134 YANKEE HILL. 

Mr. Hill giving a truthful account of the impression on his 
mind in relation to the lady. Thus urged, Mr. Hill re- 
marked : 

"My dear fellow, your intended is pretty, sings well, 
and has a graceful manner, but she is vain, and too fond of 
admiration to rest satisfied with the regard of you alone." 

" But I think she loves me sincerely ?" 

" Yes ; perhaps as well as she is capable of loving ; but 
I could not help thinking, — for I watched her closely all 
the evening, — that you have touched her vanity and not 
her heart. You occupy a fine position in society, possess- 
ing both wealth and reputation, and if I do her not great 
injustice, she looks upon you rather as the means of her 
enjoyment, than the source of her happiness. You insist 
upon my opinion, and I give it without any scruples of 
delicacy. She appears to me utterly destitute of those 
solid qualities calculated to make your fireside happy ; and 
I would beg you, if you can with honor, to withdraw from 
your engagement, for I can see nothing in its fulfilment 
but disappointment and misery." 

As my readers have, probably, already anticipated, the 
advice, though sought, was not taken, and in a very short 
time after this conversation his friend was married. Mr. 
Hill went to England soon after this, and did not see Mr. 
G. again, until the year 1840. Twenty years seemed to 
have laid their burden of cares upon him. He was no 
longer the pleasant and jovial companion Mr. Hill had 
known him, but a care-worn, heart-broken man. His wife, 
on the contrary, appeared gayer than ever. Home had no 
attractions for her, and the society of her husband was 
the last she sought. Mr. Hill's worst anticipations had 
been more than realized. A separation eventually took 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 135 

place: Mr. G. went to Europe, and his wretched wife 
abandoned herself to a life of profligacy and shame. I 
may as well relate, here, the sequel of this story, although 
the scene took place years afterwards. 

In the year 1846, Mr. Hill resided in Fourth street, near 
Union Square, New York. Whilst residing here, he prac- 
tised as a dentist, and as all who follow this profession 
assume the title of Doctor, he was not unfrequently called 
upon to officiate in that capacity. He was awakened from 
his sleep, one night, by a loud ringing of the bell. He got 
up, put on his wrapper, and went to the door. 

" Oh, docther, dear, won't you come and see a poor sick 
creature who is dangerous, and is lying in a room, forenenst 
the one my wife and children live in." 

" My friend, there is a doctor lives next door ; call upon 
him, and I've no doubt he will readily go with you." 

" I've done that same, and he is not at home. Oh, what 
will I do ; and there's no other docther near." 

" Oh, if that's the case," said Mr. Hill, " and I can be 
of any use, I'll go with you." 

" Long life to you for that same." 

Mr. Hill accompanied the man to a wretched tenement, 
above Fourteenth street. He went into the room of the 
sick woman, and who should he recognize in the miserable 
object before him, but the once gay and fashionable Mrs. 
G., the wife of his old friend. Feeble as she was, after a 
while she recognized Mr. Hill, and oh, what words of bitter 
anguish and repentance escaped her parched lips. Now, 
when sickness and poverty had worn off the gilding which 
pleasure employs to hide its unsubstantial nature, the affec- 
tions she had lost, the home she had made desolate, the love 
she had deceived, the hopes she had betrayed, came crowding 



136 # YANKEE HILL. 

upon her heart and mind to add the poignancy of their bit- 
ter thoughts to the agony of a bodily dissolution. Mr. Hill 
did and said all that he could to soothe and comfort her, 
but who can administer to a mind diseased ? Only he who 
could recall to the dying wretch the golden opportunities 
she had lost ; who could bring back youth and health, — 
and no such patient spirit dwells on earth. The pillow 
may be smoothed, the sharp pain blunted, the fever which 
burns may be relieved ; but the mind diseased, the heart 
betrayed, must look to higher than human power. To 
this Mr. Hill directed the feelings of the dying woman, 
and he had the consolation of knowing, that, before she 
died, which was in a few days after this interview, she 
became sober and resigned 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 137 



MISPLACED AFFECTION. 



. At lovers' vows they say Jove laughs, but, by Jove, they 
ought sometimes to make him weep, if he were a respect- 
able and gentlemanly man, as he ought to be, from age 
and position. If he could but take his place in some of our 
modern courts of justice, and listen to the details of lovers' 
perjuries, as displayed in crim. con. suits, now and then, or 
in the more romantic cases of " Breaches of Promise," I 
fancy the " Ancient" would laugh on the other side of 
his mouth. 

The following story of misplaced affection, also, has its 
suggestions of sorrow and regret, at which it would be very 
naughty in Jove even to smile, much less laugh. 

" Mr. D , a merchant of the city of New York, was 

associated also with a mercantile house in Boston, the 
business transactions of which frequently required his pre- 
sence in the latter city. He was accustomed to spend his 
evenings on such occasions, at the residence of his partner. 

On one of these visits, he met Miss S , an extremely 

pretty and interesting, but, as the sequel will show, a very 
weak girl. Mr. D was a man of intelligence, agree- 
able in manners, and of prepossessing appearance. He 
could talk fluently and intelligibly of the ordinary and ex- 
traordinary topics of the day, and had sufficient tact not to 



138 YANKEE HILL. 

venture upon subjects which required more thought than 
a man constantly busied with cottons and calicoes can give 
to anything which does not appear beside the money ar- 
ticle or price-current of a daily paper. He husbanded his 
stock of knowledge very adroitly, and placing his best 
goods in the shop window of his mind, managed to attract 

the attention of such superficial folks as Miss S . She 

conceived for Mr. D a romantic attachment, which she 

had not the strength of mind or principle to resist, or even 
the cunning to conceal. In a moment of thoughtless en- 
thusiasm, she confessed to him how dear he had become 
to her, and how impossible it was for her to live without 
him. He, instead of being startled with the confession of 
a guilty love like this, and checking, at once, a passion 
which could not but result in certain misery to all con- 
cerned, allowed his vanity to get the mastery of his judg- 
ment, yielded to the unholy influence which was fast 
spreading around him. He was a married man, and, ex- 
cepting this circumstance, loved his wife devotedly. Like 
many others, feeling his heart secure, he imagined he 
could throw aside the parasitic feeling which but clung, as 
he thought, only upon the outside of his affections, when- 
ever he thought proper. Dangerous infatuation! fatal 
error ! The ivy clings not more tenaciously to the oak, 
than do the spreading tendrils, which shoot from a cor- 
rupted heart around the principles of those who carelessly 

encourage their creeping insidiousness. Mr. D , by 

not at once quenching the guilty flame which was burning 

in the bosom of Miss S , committed a grievous fault, 

which, but for the interposition of a friend in time, might 
have rendered his own fireside a domestic ruin, and 






ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 139 

brought the gray hairs of an aged parent with sorrow to 
the grave. 

Mr. Hill, who was acquainted with all the parties, was 
playing an engagement in Boston, when the mother of 
Miss S came to him, and begged his advice and assist- 
ance. She informed him, that her erring daughter had 

left her home and followed Mr. D to New York, 

and begged him, as he was about to leave for that city, to 
use his influence in urging her truant child to return. Mr. 
Hill readily promised to exert himself to that effect. He 

called on Miss S on his arrival in New York. Mr. 

Hill, not harshly, but earnestly pictured to her the certain 
misery she was bringing upon herself and all connected 
with her, by pursuing the course she seemed to have 
marked out for herself. He then informed her, that her 
mother had commissioned him to conduct her back to Bos- 
ton, but to this she would not listen. " What is your ob- 
ject," said Mr. Hill, " in remaining in the city ?" She made 
no reply, and Mr. H. told her somewhat impatiently, that 
he knew why she would not leave, " And, madam," said he, 
" I can see nothing but ruin to yourself and to the man 
you pretend to love, in a persistence in this wretched con- 
duct. What, if you take your lover from the bosom of the 
woman he has sworn to love ; can you expect a moment's 
happiness ? can you rely upon the feelings of a man who 
can so easily be decoyed away ; but no, you will not be a 
party to such a thing. You have been blinded by passion. 
I will now leave you, and in the afternoon, having given 
you till that time for reflection, I will again call to learn 
your decision." 

Mr. H. saw that the most prompt measures must be em- 
ployed to wake up the infatuated girl to a proper sense of 



140 YANKEE HILL. 

her degrading position, and after giving the subject due 

consideration, he decided upon calling on Mrs. D , the 

wife, and informing her of the affair as it then stood. It 
was a painful task, but he thought it the most likely way 
to startle Mr. D to a sense of duty, and he re- 
solved to do it. He was surprised, in calling upon Mrs. 

D , to discover that she knew all about it, and had in 

her possession a letter from Miss S , to Mr. D . 

At Mr. Hill's request, Mrs. D called upon Miss S- — . 

When Mrs. D introduced herself and showed the de- 
luded girl the letter, the latter was ready to sink with mor- 
tification and shame. Not a loophole was left for her es- 
cape ; no excuse could be offered, for in her own hand- 
writing were the damning proofs of the injury she was in- 
flicting upon the innocent wife, who stood before her. No 
harsh reproaches escaped the lips of the injured wife : no 
useless recriminations to call a retort from the guilty girl ; 

but Mrs. D , with the noble spirit of Him who said to 

the adultress, "go thou, and sin no more," kindly pointed 
out the error of her way, and urged her, ere it were too 
late, to fly to her home, and to her distracted mother. 
Overcome by the dignity of the woman, whose happiness 
she had so nearly destroyed, she burst into tears, and de- 
clared she would never see Mr. D again. " Pardon 

and forgive me," said she, " he told me you were cold to 
him, that you did not care for him, and I was bewildered. 
He has basely traduced the noblest of women, and the best 
of wives : take back his miniature he gave me. Oh, that I 

had never seen him." Mrs. D encouraged her in her 

determination, and parted from her in kindness and charity. 
Mr. Hill called in the afternoon and was pleased to find Miss 
S dressed, and ready for a speedy departure. Mr. H. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 141 

did not leave her till he saw her safe on the Boston steamer, 
on her way to her friends and home. Years have passed 
since these circumstances transpired, and I have reason to 
know that the promise she gave in a moment of poignant 
sorrow and shame was faithfully kept during years of 
changing prosperity and fortune. 



142 YANKEE HILL. 



THREE CHANCES FOR A WIFE. 



When a man lias three chances for a wife, it is, indeed, a 
hard mischance if he should fail. The following is one of 
those cases, which might have occurred down east, but I 
am rather doubtful if a similar event was ever known in 
any other part of the world. But let me give the expe- 
rience of the gentleman, who had three chances, in his own 
language : 

" I once courted a gal by the name of Deb Hawkins. 
I made it up to get married. Well, while we was going 
up to the deacon's, I stepped my foot into a mud puddle, 
and spattered the mud all over Deb Hawkins' new gown, 
made out of her grandmother's old chintz petticoat. Well, 
when we got to the deacon's, he asked Deb if she would 
take me for her lawful wedded husband ? * No,' says she, 
' I shan't do no such thing.' * What on airth is the reason V 
says I. ' Why,' says she, ' I've taken a mislikin' to you.' 
Well, it was all up with me then, but I give her a string of 
beads, a few kisses, some other notions, and made it all up 
with her ; so we went up to the deacon's a second time. 
I was determined to come up to her this time, so when the 
deacon asked me if I would take her for my lawfully wed- 
ded wife, says I, « No, I shan't do no such thing.' ' Why,' 
says Deb. * what on airth is the matter ?' * Why,' says I, 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 143 

1 1 have taken a mislikin' to you now.' Well, there it was 
all up again, but I gave her a new apron, and a few 
other little trinkets, and we went up again to get married. 
We expected then we would be tied so fast that all nature 
couldn't separate us, and when we asked the deacon if he 
wouldn't marry us, he said 'No, I shan't dew any sich 
thing.' 'Why, what on airth is the reason?' says we. 
'Why,' says he, 'I've taken a mislikin' to both on you.' 
Deb burst out cryin', the deacon burst out scolding, and I 
burst out laughing, and sich a set of reg'lar busters you 
never did see." 



144 YANKEE HILL. 



SURGICAL AMBITION.— THE SPIRIT WILLING 
BUT THE FLESH WEAK. 



Mr. Hill had a passion for everything appertaining to 
surgery, but he had in his composition too much of the 
milk of human kindness to stand with a bold front to wit- 
ness the suffering consequent upon surgical operations. 
He often expressed his appreciation of excellence in the 
art, and frequently desired an opportunity to be present in 
the hospital when some great operation was to be per- 
formed. One of his friends rallied him upon his want of 
courage, and to test it, offered to accompany him to the 
hospital on the next operating day. Mr. Hill accepted the 
invitation. On the day on which Mr. Hill was introduced, 
the operating theatre was crowded, as the celebrated Dr. 
Warren was going to perform one of those bold operations 
for which he is so famous. Hill bore the preparatory steps 
with considerable composure ; but when the patient was 
seated in the chair, in which he was to undergo the agony 
of a severe and tedious operation, his sympathies were 
painfully excited, and his courage was evidently like Bob 
Acres, in the Rivals, about to make its exit by way of his 
fingers. The accomplished surgeon took his scalpel and 
made the first incision. Hill's face was pale as marble : 
he held his fingers to his ears that the groans of the tor- 






ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. - 145 

tured patient might not be heard, but all was of no avail, 
and he left the theatre with as much haste as possible, and 
sauntered about the wards of the hospital until all was 
over. 

In one of the beds lay a patient, who, a short time pre- 
viously, had lost a leg by amputation. The patient knew 
Mr. Hill, and spoke to him. Mr. Hill did his best to get 
up a little courage, and made a dismal effort to assume a 
professional indifference, but the sick man saw, thought, 
and said, with a serio-comic air, " Ah, Mr. Hill, you won't 
do for a doctor. This is a horrid place for a Christian to 
be in. My leg is gone, but I don't care for that. My 
wife and children " — and here the sick man paused. Hill's 
hand had been fumbling in his pocket, and at last he drew 
out an eagle, and threw it to the sick man. " There, send 
that to your wife, and if she don't want to use it, keep it 
to buy yourself a wooden leg when you get well." Mr. 
Hill took a hurried departure from the hospital ; and al- 
though he never lost a keen sensibility to the suffering of 
his fellow- creatures, his love of the surgical profession 
prevailed sufficiently to enable him to witness operations 
afterwards with some fortitude. 



146 YANKEE HILL. 



LOVERS' QUARRELS.— RECONCILIATION. 



On Mr. Hill's first visit to London, he was introduced to 

the family of Mr. T , of , near Regent's Park. 

He had the faculty, in an eminent degree, of making those 
with whom he came in contact, love him. There was a 
frank, hearty manner about him which abhorred conceal- 
ments, and I have been surprised in reading over some of 
the papers in my possession to see with what readiness he 
obtained the confidence of others. The family of Mr. 
T , consisting of his wife and three daughters, enter- 
tained the highest regard for Mr. Hill, and as will be seen 
by the sequel, one member of the family made him a sort 
of father confessor, in a very delicate affair ; this was the 
eldest daughter. Mr. Hill had observed that, during his 
last visit to the family, this young lady had lost all her 
vivacity, and seemed depressed and melancholy. She had 
been playing at the piano, accompanied by Mr. Hill with 
his flute, when she suddenly gave up playing, and retired 
to the sofa. It so happened, there was no one in the room 
beside themselves. Mr. Hill, in his usual kind manner, in- 
quired the cause of her sadness. " Oh, not much !" she 
replied, " my health has not been as well as usual, lately." 
" Excuse me, my dear Miss T , but I think there 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 147 

is something more. If you have any cause of unhappiness 
confide your sorrow to me, and if I cannot remove the 
cause of your depression, the sympathy of a friend will, 
perhaps, alleviate it : come now." She was silent for a 
moment, and looking at Mr. Hill through her tears, said 
" You are right, Mr. Hill, I am truly miserable, and I dare 
not let my mother or sisters know the cause. I have been 

for some months partially engaged to Mr. P , but I 

felt that he did not love me with that devotion that I 
wished, and I determined to try the strength of his at- 
tachment. About three weeks ago we were all at a party, 
and I was introduced to a young man, who during the even- 
ing paid me a great deal of attention, which I encouraged — 
in fact we appeared devoted to each other. I occasionally 
glanced towards him whom I truly loved, to see the 
effect my conduct produced. I saw that he was hurt, and 
yet I persisted in my unfeeling course. At length he was 
missing from the room. At first I thought nothing of his 
absence, but when I found he did not return, my heart sank 
within me, and I ordered the carriage and went home. 
The next day I received a letter from him, in which he 
said that he had witnessed, with unspeakable anguish, my 
conduct of the evening before, and that he should now 
take leave of me forever, hoping that now I had found one 
better suited to my tastes and inclination, and should be 
happy. He released me from all engagements. He con- 
fessed that he loved me." " I see," said Mr. Hill, " you have 
acted unkindly ; but tell me, if your lover could be con- 
vinced of the true state of the case, and could be restored 
to you, would you venture to trifle with his feelings so 
again?" "Never!" she earnestly replied. "Well, then, 
leave the matter to me ; I know him well ; and will let him 



148 YANKEE HILL. 

understand how you feel, without compromising your deli- 
cacy in the least." Mr. Hill was then preparing to visit 
Paris, whither Mr. P had fled, under the disappoint- 
ments he had experienced. One of the first things Mr. 

Hill did, on reaching Paris, was to find out Mr. P . 

He had not his address, but he ransacked all the public 
places in the hope of meeting the truant, but with no suc- 
cess, for some time. At length, whilst taking some refresh- 
ments in a celebrated cafe, who should come in but the me- 
lancholy lover. He was delighted at seeing Mr. Hill, for 
he knew he should hear news from home, and especially of 
her to whom his heart was still devoted, despite her 
coquetry. Mr. Hill found no difficulty in approaching the 

subject, for it was one, of all others, Mr. P was 

most interested in. When the true state of the case was 
made known, he was for starting back to England by the 
first conveyance, but Mr. Hill restrained the impatient lover, 
and made him promise to stay until the next day, which he 
did. Paris had now lost all attractions for him, and not one 
moment longer than that would he be detained. 

On Mr. Hill's return to England, he found the young 
lady he left so melancholy and depressed, the gayest of the 
gay. Her color had come back to her cheeks, and when 
he suddenly went into the room where she and her 
lover were seated, she flew to receive him, and — shall I say 
it — kissed him. The lover was by, and had sense enough 
to attribute this kiss of gratitude to the right source. They 
were married in a few months after, and are now as happy 
a couple as can be met with in a summer's day. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 149 



THE BAR-ROOM LOAFER. 



He lies in bed as long as the happy sunlight, streaming 
through the window of his unpaid -for lodging-room will 
permit him, and when he has dressed himself, completed 
his toilet, and is half satisfied with his personal appear- 
ance, he ventures forth. 

He has always a certain round to perform, and never 
did a circuit judge, bent on fulfilling his business with 
satisfaction to the community, perform his duty with more 
regularity. He knows, at the first house on his circuit, 
which he generally reaches by eleven o'clock, that he will 
meet with Alderman Bluebottle. 

Alderman Bluebottle is a stout man, with a hoarse, 
rough voice, like a raven's. He is popular in his ward, and 
one of the committee on the alms-house. He is reputed to 
be pious, and goes dead against the Sunday papers. At- 
tends all corporation and public dinners, and stays till all 
is blue. He drinks a glass of beer at eleven o'clock pre- 
cisely, to the minute, at precisely the same house every 
day of his life. 

" Sir, the cause of democracy is progressing," says the 
Alderman. 

" Are it ?" says a thin, spare man, who accompanies 
him : he is a tailor by occupation, a man of considerable 



150 YANKEE HILL. 

influence among the cloth, as sharp as a needle, as cutting 
as a pair of shears, and moreover, a voter in the 21st 
Ward. 

" Are it, though ?" 

"Yes, sir," says the Alderman, "too long degraded 
beneath the oppressive exactions of a collapsed, injurious, 
unsentimental, and prodigal government, as I had the honor 
to say the other night, in the Board. (« I called for beer, 
sir :') Sir, what did I say the other night in the board ? 
We were discussing that momentous question, the impor- 
tance of educating young rats, so as to make them useful 
for domestic purposes. By the bye, did you hear Mr. Al- 
derman Drinkdry's excellent theory on that subject ? All 
nature informs us, that original minds have lost their dis- 
tinguishing qualities, and by habit and education, have be- 
come the reverse of what they were. Sir, if the human 
race have done this ere thing, why may not the animal 
creation. Rats, who now tear up the floors of our dwell- 
ings, and ravages our barns, who enter, without feelings of 
decency and respect, the bed-rooms of our wives and 
daughters, break into our shops and destroy our property, 
may, by education, be brought to be protectors, instead of 
deceivers, and in place of calling out, ' Behold the dust 
that hangs upon their bloody track,' we may have to shout 
hosannahs to * Waiter, bring me some beer.' " 

"Yes, sir, to what?" 

"To what, sir." 

" Yes, sir, to what ?" 

" To the triumphant march of the rats, while the deep 
diapason of caterwauling will swell the scenes. Sir, I move 
the establishment of ten normal schools, for the education 
of young rats." 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 151 

While this is going on, our worthy friend, the loafer, 
has been perusing the papers : he has looked through the 
Courier and Express, turned up his nose at the Journal 
of Commerce, requested a gentleman to make haste with 
the Aurora, and wondered when the Evening Tattler would 
be out. He is now engaged in reading the bill of the New 
York Museum. He finishes the bill as Alderman Blue- 
bottle closes his speech, and bowing and simpering, walks 
forward 

" Good morning, Alderman, what prospects have we for 
the election." 

" Well, sir, really I don't know ; I guess it's all 0. K." 

"I think so too. I have voted in the 21st Ward every 
year till now. I'm sorry to move. I really think I shall 
go back." 

"The 21st Ward is an excellent Ward, and our people 
may be useful there. Pray, sir, are you drinking any- 
thing ?" 

" No, Alderman, but as it's you, a very small glass of 
brandy and water. Now, not too much. Stay, I'll mix it 
myself." 

And so our friend obtains glass No. 1 . Acquaintance 
after acquaintance drops in, and the bar-room loafer ma- 
nages as often to be recognized, until he finds some un- 
happy acquaintance, who, in pity to his hungry looks, asks 
him to dine. And so from day to day and from hour to 
hour he continues to live, and fret his hour upon the stage. 



152 



YANKEE HILL. 



ANTIQUITIES AND PRODUCTS GINERALLY. 



We now come to the ancient diskiveries proper, and the 
products of the sile. You may here see a piece of the 
ginooine Plymouth rock. It was thought at one time that 




the English had carried it off, and made it a part of the 
rock of Gibraltar, but when they paid us a visit in red uni- 
form, and tested the material, they found the old stun 
there, and they found it a Gibraltar tew. Twsls a great 
letter among the ancients, and from it arose the society of 
T totallers. Their idol, the Tea, became so common, arter 
a spell, that it was emptied by the box-full intew Boston 
harbor. Turtle, a shell of which you may see in my col- 
lection, gave birth tew the sayin' of "shell out." The 
tarm hierology, which we use in describin' these things, 
means that the people in old times were ruther toploftical. 
A number of these matters hev been hard tew diskiver, 
but they are easy when you know 'em. Now, many on 



A.NECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 



153 



you b'lieve the old sayin' that matches were made in 
heaven, but I kin prove they were made in New England, 
'specially the Lucifer ones. Ef I had time I might say 
suthin' about the brimstun at one eend of 'em, but I leave 
you all tew find eout about that, herearter, yourselves. 
Putty is a great antiquity. Its fluctuation in this day is a 
remarkable contrast tew the past : putty, anciently, jest 
stuck where it was put. You hev heern of corn I Well, I 
guess you hev. Tew vary eour subject, and teck things 
ginerally, we will pass on tew corn, and that brings us tew 
products. The race anterior tew the ancient Pilgrims 
knew suthin' abeout this vegetable, but it was left tew eour 
airly ancestors tew develop the full usefulness of this grain. 
The Ingins knew heow to use it in the rough, but, oh ! 
Johnny cakes and corn juice, tew what parfection it was 
finally brought by the descendants of the primitive fathers. 
This cartouche will show you the tew stages of corn. 

Here you hev corn in the rough, 

Corn. 

S 




Corn Juice. 

And here you hev it in parfection. 

Findin' that by poundin' the grain, mixin' with it a leetle 
milk and a few eggs, that it made a mixtur of a humanizin' 

7* 



154 



YANKEE HILL. 



character for the innards, they set tew work tew fix a 
liquid mixtur eout of the juice, tew was' down the cakes, 
and pursuin' it through a spirit of resarch, from one dis- 
kivery tew anuther, they got eout a juice which set their 
tongues workin' very lively. Findin' it a warmin' mixtur, 
they kept on takin' it, and finally their legs got tew movin' 
in sech a zig-zag fashion, that many were shocked with the 
new drink. This diskivery, undoubtedly, pinted many intu 
very crooked ways, and gin rise tew the expression that — 
" This is a great country." 

It may Ipe proper, before proceedin' farther, tew state 
that, the ancient New Englanders wore a becomin' kiverin' 
in airly times. "We hev here a cartouche, presentin' the 
outline of an early settler, and his descendant of the present 
gineration. The difference in the outer kiverin' will strike 




your eye in a minnit. In old times they went in for an all- 
sufficient amount of brim, while neow, hevin' grown cute, 
and savin' of stuff, they cut it so precious narrow, that it is 
eenamost all shaved off. Y-e-s they dew. In the coat 
some difference may be diskivered ; the antique, as you see, 
wraps the hull body — while in t'other the body is neglected, 
and the material is all consigned tew the skirt, or tail-eend 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 



155 



of the kiverin'. Frock coats air an exception, and sacks 
air different and primitive. Here, neow, is a very interest- 
in' relic in the coat way, found in the ruins of an airly 




habitation, and it is the best evidence we kin offer, that 
some of eour Irish friends were among the first native 
settlers. Let us tech and pass on agin. 

It is a gineral opinion that wooden clocks, like some 
people's larnin', came naturally tew the ancient inhabitants, 
but who began tew build 'em for exportation remains a 
hidden mystery. It is pretty sartain, however, that wooden 
clocks hev ben diskivered, and, I may say, that in my 
travels, not only on this Continent, but in some furrin' 
parts, I hev hearn on a few of 'em, and seen a couple, I 
reckon : well, I guess I hev. They are a nat'ral product of 
New England. Wooden nutmegs spring spontaneously 
from the sile ; tooth-powder is turned out as plenty as saw 
dust, and a good deal like it tew ; bear's grease made from 
New England pork, highly scented, is biled down in its 
factories ; and the patent pills, which can cure anything 
from measles to an amputated head, hev all sprung from 
this ancient race. I hev here a small cartouche, found in a 
mortar, which explains pills easy. 



156 



YANKEE KILL. 




Pills. 

A fellar is here represented about tew s waller one, and he 
looks as ef his innards didn't like pills. We hev good 
reason tew b'lieve that New Englanders made the first 
shoes, for, on decypherin' one of the old inscriptions below 
this cartouche, we find inscribed the words : 

" There is nuthiiC like leather" 





An evidence agin which there kin be no dispute. What a 
a sublime contemplation it is, that New England protects, 
by the science of cobblin, the gineral understandin' of half 
creation. 

We now come tew the interesting part of eour subject, 
which more particularly treats of punkins. Punkins air 
indigenous tew our sile, and the ancient settlers feound 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 



157 



that eout, at an early period; seeing this big fruit, they 
natrally sot tew work to see what its innards was made 
of. By sartain paintin's and cartouches, still presarved, 
and by written history, as sot deown in hieroglyphics, we 
learn that they first tried 'em raw, but they didn't eat good, 
and then they cooked 'em. Ah ! oh ! ! AHEM ! ! ! (licks his 
chops.) A diskivery was now made, which sot the mouths 
of a hull colony watering. They soon got tew making 
them intew pies, which fact we see proved by this cartouche. 




Punkin Pie. 

Punkin is put over the pie, to signify that the punkin 
was first diskivered," and that it was a'ter made intew the 
pie. You will recollect, that the pie was the second dis- 
kivery. The eatin' of the pie wanted no studdy, for it 
was found, by actual experiment, that ef you put a piece 
of the pie intew the hands of a Yankee babby, it jest na- 
trally puts it in its mouth. 

At one period, we held a deep investigation in the histo- 
rical society, tew which I hev the honor of bein' Corres- 
pond^' Secretary. The subject was this stun, 

X 




158 YANKEE HILL. 

which bore this queer inscription : 

ITIS APU NKIN ITIS. 
It was plain tew to perceive that it was a petrified vegeta- 
ble, but it was desp'rate hard tew decipher, geologically, 
its class, 'cause it was so carefully dried up. We sot tew 
work on the inscription, thinkin' that as it was antique, it 
would tell the origin of the plant, or gin us a peep intew 
some matter of airly history. Deacon S tarns, the Presi- 
dent, a'ter consultin' all the books in the library, remarked 
to the Society, in his commandin' way : — 

Deacon. — A'ter a sarchin 1 hunt, and considerable read- 
in', I hev found eout, that the first word is a Latin tarm. 
It is — " ITIS, — thou goest," and I reckon I wouldn't go 
through sech anuther hunt tew find eout the beginnin' or 
eend of creation, I had a sarchin' time, I b'lieve. 

Eour antiquary spoke up right peert tew the President 
on hearin' this : 

Antiquary. — Why, Deacon, ITIS, well, yes, guess it is, 
well, I declare, who'd thought it, — and I swow ef the last 
word don't spell jest the same thing. Thou goest. Yes, 
jest the same. Mabbe the middle means that tew, let me 
see. No, for spell it which way you will, up or down, it 
seems tew mean suthin' else, y-e-s, I guess it does ; well, 
really. I move Deacon, we sit on this stun till we find it 
eout. Parseverance will dew it, for by that you hev 
already diskivered the first, and me the last word. 

Deacon. — You diskiver ? ahem! You! I found both 
out myself. 

Antiquary. — You will own, Mr. President, that you ony 
named the first. 

Deacon. — Yes ; and that was the key tew the second, 
sir : neow how do you feel ? 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 159 

Antiquary. — I reckon, deacon, it's one thing tew find 
the key, and anuther tew know its use. I aint goin' tew 
be robbed of my resarches, / guess ; particularly, a'ter I 
hev unlocked a secret of sech importance. 

Deacon. — Ef the antiquity gentleman of this so-ci-e-ty 
hes a mind tew, he will please come tew order. 

The society unanimously called the antiquary tew order, 
and rite off, a new member, a timid lookin' young feller, 
remarked : 

New Member. — Ef it would please the society, I would 
like to make a slight remark ; not that I kin throw light 
upon the subject afore you , a timely remark, however, 
might lead to new remarks, and remarkin' upon one point 
a'ter anuther, would draw eout remarks. 

Deacon. — {Waving hand.) Go on, sir; let us hear 
your remark, and ef you please make it remarkable brief. 

New Member. — Yes, sir. I would ony remark, that eour 
doctor remarked, that APTJ, if the U was an 0, would 
be the Greek word for from. 

The sensation at heerin' this was tremenjus. I may say 
the hull society was set a bilin'. The new member got 
frightened at what he had did, and I natrally expected 
him tew run. Eour antiquary moved that a medal be 
struck in his honor, and that frightened him wus. He said 
he be durned if they should strike him with a medal, and 
threatened he'd lick the antiquary the first time he caught 
him sarchin' in the ruins of his daddy's mill. Finally, the 
twitter in which they had all been put, smoothed down, 
and they all, ginerally, sot tew work, tew find eout the last 
undiskivered word. I told 'em now, myself, that ef the 
third word had an (a) and (n) atween the (n) and (k), I'd 
think it was nankin. 



160 YANKEE HILL. 

Antiquary. — That's it. It's named a'ter nankin trowsers! 

President. — Ah ! yes, yes ; that is a Chinese word. I 
have heard the captin' of one of my vessels say it was a 
teown in China. Ah ! ha ! that is it, sure enough, I reckon. 
Well, I cal'late the hull reads now, clear as moonshine : 
let me see : 

Latin. Oreeh. Chinese. Latin. 

ITIS APU NKItf ITIS. 

THOU GOEST FROM NANKIN, THOU GOEST. 

It is plain as the nose on a face, tew the eye of science 
ginerally, and tew this society in particular, that this stun 
was once a Chinese fruit, sent eout to this country, to see 
ef it would fructify, and here the darn thing has taken a 
notion instead to petrify ! 

The applause was tremenjus ! 

Zachariah Stanhope, a consarned dirty little rascal, who 
swept our historical room and made the fires, bust right 
eout intew a snigger. He had been sticking his tow head 
atween the heads of the society, and was deciphering the 
inscription tew. 

President. — Zack, what air you sniggerin' eout in that 
way abeout, eh ? 

Zach. — At the stun, sir. 

President. — Well, what abeout the stun ? 

Zach. — At the words, sir. 

President. — Hah ! At the words, eh ? Well, what do 
you spell eout of them ? come, let us hear you ; and the 
president winked at the society. 

Zach, — (a'ter wiping his nose, and lickin' his lips, read 
right eout,) — 

IT-IS-A-PUNKHST-IT-IS ! ! 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 161 

And so it was, a consarned dried up, petrified punkin, 
that had dried up, as you kin see, more one way than 
t'other. A'ter votin' a medal to the diskiverer of this in- 
scription, eour society adjourned. 

Ladies and gentlemen, walk up and see my antiquities. 



I do not claim for Mr. Hill any great originality, either 
in the conception or execution of the following lecture on 
the antiquities of New England. I feel almost sure the 
idea was suggested by Mr. Gliddon's lectures on Egypt, to 
which it bears a strong resemblance in the very extraordi- 
nary character of the facts related, and the oddity of the 
hypothesis sought to be established. The title of Mr. 
Hill's lecture, viz. "Antiquities of New England," brings to 
my mind a question once absolutely put to me by a phy- 
sician, then practising in the city of Brooklyn. I was walk- 
ing along the Heights with him one evening, when the 
Doctor turned towards, and thus addressed me, " Doctor," 
said he, ''are all those old, ancient antiquities of former 
times, all covered with ivory, which we read of in England, 
realities or mere creatures of the imagination ?" It will 
appear almost incredible, perhaps, that a man possessing 
a diploma for the practice of a liberal profession, could 
deliver himself of " such perilous stuff;" but I pledge my 
word that the language I have put into his mouth is verba- 
tim, that which he employed to express himself on this oc- 
casion. With regard to Mr. Hill's Antiquities of New Eng- 
land, I shall leave my reader to judge whether "they 
are realities, or mere creatures of the imagination." 



162 YANKEE HILL. 



THE PEOPLE AND ANTIQUITIES OF NEW ENGLAND, 
YANKEEOLOGICALLY SPEAKING. 

It is a pooty ginerally conceded fact, that man is a 
queer critter, and that when he aint movin' abeout he's 
doin' suthin' else. This pint bein* conceded, we pass on 
tew remark, that the first race which sot deown in New 
England, we're of this movin', reound kind of critters, and 
I rekon they hev fixed a leetle mite of their stirrin' reound 
propensities upon the ginerations that followed a'ter. ' This 
part of eour subject may not account for the milk in the 
cocoa nut, but it does account for why your humble sar- 
vint is here. All owin' tew his New England propensity 
for stirrin' reound. Well, hevin' settled this pint we'll 
pass on tew consider the next. It has been ginerally 
thought, that the airly inhabitants of New England all 
came from some place, and I guess they did. What's more, 
they found a place tew come tew, when they came. This 
in some measure, accounts for the ancient sayin', that 
" you'll be there when you git tew the place." Well, a'ter 
eatin' a clam- chowder, of which we have sufficient evidence 
that they were desp'rately fond, 'cause the shells air scat- 
tered abeout promiscuously, these airly New Englanders 
sot to work at makin' themselves tew hum, and they suc- 
ceeded a'ter a fashion. The fashion hes ben found to be 
a tolerable good one tew, for their posterity stick tew the 
same way of gittin' along, even unto the present ginera- 
tion. Well, as I was sayin', they made themselves at hum. 
Where they landed, there was considerable sand, some 
stuns, and a leetle dash of water, and from sartin' hiero- 
glyphical evidence, we air enabled tew make out, that they 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 163 

were jest abeout as hard-headed a race as ever made up 
their minds tew settle down wherever they had a mind tew. 
It aint exactly known whether they came in a hickory 
canoe, or a birch basket, but jedgin' from the way New 
England schoolmasters use these tew kind of woods, eour 
historical society hev settled deown intew the opinion, that 
they came in both. Select men were chosen and appinted 
in them days to rule over the people, and they in turn used 
tew select some of the people tew be ruled over, and they 
ginerally did this rulin' with a rod. In modern New Eng- 
land varsion, the select men air " old flints," I reckon 
'cause some on' em air a leetle flinty-hearted. Talkin' of 
flints brings me tew an important pint in my subject, and 
that is ROCKS. Nigh ontew all on you hev heerd abeout 
the Rock of Plymouth, and if youhev'nt, it's a darned shame 
for it's often enough talked about. The ancient inhabi- 
tants of New England, beyond dispute, landed on this rock, 
and they found it a pooty solid, steady kind of a footin'. 
From this fact grew eout the common sayin' that New- 
England is the land of steady habits. Heow could they be 
otherwise, when they commenced on so solid a foundation ? 
Without runnin' this rock intew the ground, I'd like tew 
say suthin' abeout its antiquity. It is pooty ginerally con- 
ceded that afore it was diskivered, it had staid in the same 
place a pooty long spell — mabbe anterior to Adam ! Who 
knows ? I'll be durned if I dew. All I know, and all it's 
necessary for me tew find eout is, that it as there, and I 
ruther guess, a'ter I hev handled it a leetle mite there, 
I'll leave it. You see here, in this diagram, a correct repre- 
sentation, or as nigh as I can git it, of this identical rock, 
(Lecturer points at it,) 



164 



YANKEE HILL. 




and if you all look sharp, you will see that it is pooty con- 
siderable of a stun. It is known tew be, by a kind of 
natural humin cal'lation, an all-sufficient sight older than 
the Egyptian pyramids, and anterior tew the present times, 
at least 5000 years. Our society aint ben able, as yet, tew 
trace the Polk name down tew the airly dynasties of the 
select men, but I reckon we will yet find it eout. We 
hev, however, in eour archilogical diggin' diskivered the 
word Pillow, but whether it was any relation tew Gideon 
Pillow, is not yet sartin.' The word is thought tew hev 
a soft meanin,' but larnin tew read hieroglyphics, we hev 
ascertained that a man named Jacob, who was lost in the 
wilderness, pillowed upon a stun. Now, Gideon bein' also 
ancient, a spirit of deduction natrally leads us tew Pillow 
and then Jacob pints eout the stun, and here, you see, we 
slide right back tew rock from where we started. This 
explanation, we think, fully establishes this cartouche, which 
has been whittled in the old stun by a son of the airly 
Pilgrims. 

This is the first indication we hev of the tune " Yankee 
Doodle," and the sound on it is explained by the steps 
and crow of a rooster, thus : " Yan — kee — doo — del — 
dan — dy. One — two — three — four — ooo ! (crow.) The 
Arabs, by which we mean the modern portion on 'em, used 
to visit Plymouth Rock, and break off pieces of the stun, 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 



165 




Yankee- Doodle-Doo. 

eout of which propensity grew the common saying, " I'd 
a good deal ruther crack rock." Antiquarians, tew, visited 
the old spot, and used tew fill their pockets with pieces 
of the stun, which give rise tew the modern expression, 
" sech a fellar is in town with a pocket full of rocks? 
You kin see this symbolized in this cartouche. 



Rock. 




Pocket full of Rocks. 



The next stun, or I should say pile of stuns, is the 
Monument, and usin' the words of a celebrated New- 
England Savan, " there it stands /" 



166 



YANKEE HILL. 




and you couldn't, very easy, make it dew any thin' else. 
It is situated on Bunker Hill, named after old Joe Bunker, 
who used tew make shoes rite down at the hill foot. 
"Whether the rest of the spot and Hills in gineral were 
named arter my own ancesters, I aint yet diskivered, but 
in future explorations I hev hopes of findin' eout, on some 
Hill, a key-stun pinting eout the gratifyin' fact that your 
lecturer is descended from a ginooine old settler. When 
this obelisk began tew be histed up, is a period only known 
to the " oldest inhabitant." Sartain curious inscriptions, 
buried in a hollow stun beneath its base, tells all abeout it, 
but I aint seen 'em, nor I don't expect tew soon do, but I 
know they are there, 'cause somebody told me. Here is a 
miniature of it, whittled eout in my smoothest style. The 
great distinguishin' featur' about this stupendous mountain 
of stun is the fact, that they begun tew fix it up from the 
top down. I guess now, mabbe some on you don't b'lieve 
this, but ef I could ony git you all intew a mesmeric state 
you'd see it jest as easy — I might say, jest as easy as ef 
you had your eyes shet. Some dew say that clairvoyance 
is a regular " open and shet ;" heow that is, I leave you 
tew cypher eout by your own natral bent of genius, while 
I proceed tew explain heow the Bunker Hill obelisk was 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 



167 



built downward. From a cute and sarchin' investigation, 
I hev diskivered that the hull pile of rock is capped by- 
one stun. Now, heow could the pile be put up under that 
stun ? I reckon we hev neow arriv at the pint of the 
subject. As I said before, it is not one stun, but a whole 
pile — now, there you hev it— how is it going to git up ? 
By the simple process (simple when you know it,) — and 
there it is, jest like Zacharia Dempson's new patent ma- 
chine for manufacturin' the wind intew short-cake, by the 
simple process of mesmerism, the top stun, and making it 
stay there, at jest the height they wanted — tew elevate the 
pile above the airth. This diagram shows the slantin' of 
the mesmeric fluid, and here j t ou see the top stone. 



/A 




There is another streak of fluid on the other side which you 
can't see, but you can see easy that when the mesmeric 
power could hold this stun up here, it was desp'rate easy 
tew hitch the other stuns tew the fluid, and by drawin' your 
hand down so, (manipulates,) stick 'em so consarned fast 
that an airthquake couldn't shake 'em loose. I don't won- 
der some of you opin your eyes, for the progress of this 
age, in the onward march of antiquarian research, new 
diskiveries, and everlastin' upturnin' of new things, keep 
continually putting the cap-stun on all preconceived no- 



168 YANKEE HILL. 

tions. I would jest refer you, — and this pile is an as- 
tounding illustration of the re-markable difference atween 
the ancient New Englanders, and the ancient Egyptians. 
It'll strike you in a moment, and it'll show you what a 
dark and be-nighted set they were, as you get east'ard, 
while as you get west'ard, as far as the eastern part of this 
continent, it'll be diskivered that mankind grew cute and 
cunnin' — y-e-s they did! The poor yaller- skinned Asiatics., 
had no more sense, — I swow, I've a propensity tew bust 
rite intew a reglar roar, when I think that a people who 
looked so ripe as to be yaller, could be so durnation green. 
Would you b'lieve it ? — I reckon you'll find it hard tew — 
these be-nighted people writ deown the history of their mon- 
aments rite on their face, jest where every fellar who tuck 
the trouble tew lam, could read it right eout in meetin', ef 
he'd a mind tew. I say, they writ it right deown on the 
stun, so it couldn't be wasked eout with the rain of cen- 
turies. Neow you can see the Egyptin' darkness of these 
poor critters. Heow is it on t'other side ? Heow, and 
what distinguishes the ancient New England monament 
builders ? What shows their cuteness ? I kin tell you in 
a few words, pertinently delivered. The New Englanders 
buried the history of their monaments in the solid rock, 
under the hull pile of stun, and if the futur' sarcher a'ter 
ancient New England antiquities, wants tew read it, he'll 
hev tew either know mesmerism, or else pull the hull 
tremenjus obelisk, cap-stun and all, deown, tew find out 
what it's all about. This is what I call cute. It is show- 
in' tew the world that the pryin', sneekin' reound, findin' 
eout propensities of futur' ginerations will hev to scratch 
and a few, afore they can git intew their secrets. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 169 

We now come tew anuther head of our lectur, and that 

is HEARTH-STUNS. 

This last named antiquity has sometimes appeared in 
brick, and then agin in marble ; but who found the last 
brick thrown in, or at this head of our discourse, eour 
society aint yet decided upon. Where the hearth-stun 
lay, however, and what were its gineral uses, is jest as 
well known tew eour society, as the big letters in the New 
England Primer. You hev here, in this cartouche, a rude 
representation of the hearth-stun. 
Clock. 



Candle. $k< : ~ ij l Candle. 




Stun. 

How the inhabitants made use of this stun, is the subject 
we shall talk on for a spell. I cal'late it was in pooty 
constant use. Hieroglyphics relate that Deacon Bigelow 
was seated, one evenin' about nine o'clock, on this side ; 
and on t'other side, jest about there, old Mrs. Bigelow was 
sittin' smokin'. A leetle tew the right of Mrs. B., and jest, 
I may say, in her shadder, was seated Abby, the eldest 
darter, who has jest got in from singin'-school ; and rite 
opposite tew her is Jedediah Peabody, a spruce, smart- 
lookin' young fellar, son of old Deacon Peabody, who has 
ben seem' Nabby hum from the singin' class. Jest abeout 
there, frontin' the fire, is seated the deacon's eleventh child 
and as he is the last, of course he is a pet. He kin jest 
talk plain, and seein' Jed come in with Abby, his eves are 
8 



170 YANKEE HILL. 

abeout as wide open, as it could be expected any young 
critter's would stretch at bis tender years. He sees Jed 
wink at Abby, ( Oh !) and now he watches Abby, and sees 
her look pleased, and shake her head at Jed. (Good gra- 
cious !) And so he eyes one, and then t'other, his aston- 
ishment growin' on him every minnit, "until his Ma says : 

Mrs. B. — Deacon Bigelow is the cattle critters fed? 

Deacon. — (Sleepy) — Well, I reckon Isaiah has gin 'em 
suthin', and afore this litter'd 'em down. 

Mrs. B. — Is the kindlin' wood brought in tew ? 

Deacon. — Yes, y-e-s, my dear, all is r-i- 

Mrs. B. — Then come along, git up and let us go tew 
bed. You, Abby, mind you kiver the fire up, and fasten 
the door afore you come tew bed ; and you, Jed, it's time 
you were tew hum. Gideon, git up, my child, and dew let 
us all git tew bed. 

Off they go, and eout in the hall little Gid commences 
tew blow on Abby. 

Gideon. — Ma, you ourt tew take your birch tew Jed 
Peabody. 

Ma. — Why, my dear boy, what did Jed dew ? 

Gideon — He kept all the time makin' mouths at Abby ? 

Deacon. — Toddle along Gid, and shet up. 

Gideon. — Shet up ! I guess I seed him dew wus than 
that ; he bit her the other night right on her lips, I seed 
him, so I did. 

We will neow return tew the hearth-stun. Jed has ben 
hitchin' his cheer 'round tew Abby, and by hieroglyphical 
devices we larn that he gits his cheer chuck up agin hers, 
and by the progressive rule by which we decypher the first 
part, we conclude that Jed has ben at it agin, the durned 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 



in 



critter has ben kissin' on her, or as young Gid calls it, bitin' 
her on the lips agin. 

From the blue-book papyrus, presarved as a relic of the 
reg'lar old mummys who first gathered round Plymouth 
rock, we lam that kissin' was so prevalent in the airly days 
of New England, that the young folks were at it, not only 
only on every day in the week, but Sunday tew ; and, 
therefore, it was found necessary tew put a stop tew it on 
the seventh, by law. I reckon that, like in modern times, 
the young folks among the ancients sot Sunday aside' as a 
day upon which to dew up pooty considerable of that in- 
terestin' kind of labor. 

The hearth of every true ISTew Englander reveres this 
hearth-stun, for around it, no matter whether it be of brick 
or marble, gethers the loved associations of hum. It is 
endeared to him by the memory of a venerated father, the 
fond care of a gentle mother, the sweet love of a bright-eyed 
sister, or the manly friendship and affection of a brother. 
In infancy he has crowed with glee at the bright blaze 
which flashed from its surface — in youth he has listened in 
wonder, beside it, to the related history of his Puritan an- 
cestors — in manhood he has whispered a tale of love in the 
ear of beauty, by the border of this old hearth-stun, and 
sealed on the fair lips of virtue, the pledge of unending 
attachment, and in old age, on Thanksgiving Day, he has 
gathered around it his children and his children's children, 
and like a patriarch of old, thanked his Creator that he 
lived to hear again the sweet music of his kindred's voices. 
The hieroglyphic seal of this old stun is inscribed on the 
heart's tablet of every ginooine Yankee. 



172 YANKEE HILL. 



LECTURE ON NEW ENGLAND. 



Who can read the simple history of the Republic of 
North America, without emotions of the most pious reve- 
rence and deep affection ? With the improvements in 
modern navigation, it is now an every-day affair to see 
vessels that have traversed the widest seas ; but think of 
things as they were then, the vague ideas of this " wilder- 
ness world," its savage inhabitants, and its beasts of prey, 
that were the horrors of the nursery, as are those now of 
Africa and Australasia, and you can form some conception 
of the feelings of fathers and their families, on exiling them- 
selves from home, and all that was dear on earth, save their 
sacred faith ; that, like St. John in the Isle of Patmos, they 
might find some ritual in a distant wild. Our forefathers 
came to these shores under convoy of no naval armament ; 
they brought no trophies of glory ; they were not attended 
with the pomp and pageantry of the military adventurer, but 
with the " simple scrip and staff of the pilgrim ;" unlike the 
founders of ancient Rome, they were not a set of outlaws and 
fugitive felons, but a company of Christian brethren, with 
their wives and children, led on by no grovelling cupidity 
or worldly ambition, but by unfaltering devotion and faith. 
With such an ancestry and history, with institutions calcu- 
lated to develop the highest dignity of character, with a 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 173 

country possessing every thing in the physical and moral 
world, to enlarge the mind, what will be the ultimate bound 
of our attainments as a people ? 

A few days since, as I stood upon the top of yonder 
capital, the crown of this goodly city, gazing upon the pic- 
turesque panorama of which it is the centre, its hive of 
human habitations, its spires, its streets teeming with a 
countless and stirring multitude, its hum of business, its 
wharves and shipping, its green common and drooping 
elms, the only remnants of verdure's former realm, its bay 
gemmed with islands and whitened with sails, expanding 
into the ocean; and when I turned to the numerous villages, 
in every direction, clustering around their churches, like 
flocks around their shepherds ; the different rail -roads with 
their trains, like some fabled monsters, exhaling smoke and 
fire, and apparently perforating hills, and flying over valleys, 
the naval citadel bearing that flag which, though unfurled 
but a few years ago, is now respected in every sea, — I was 
lost in rapture, as my mind pictured the probable scene but 
two centuries ago. On the height where this building is 
based, has the Indian hunter paused awhile, to contemplate 
this picture of nature, and could he have expressed himself 
in the language of the poet, he would have exclaimed, 

" I am monarch of all I survey !" 

Where stands this proud and noble city, was then an un- 
broken forest, with here and there a thin wreath of smoke, 
betraying the nestling wigwam ; the partridge led the young, 
where now the Christian mother watches the gambols of her 
children — -the beautiful fawn sported where the artless girl 
winds her way to school, and the cooing pair built their 
little home in the branches beneath which bashful love now 



174 YANKEE HILL. 

woos and wins the fair and pure. Where the thrush made 
the common " air most musical," now swells the pealing 
anthem of the choir and the organ ; the church-bell tolls the 
knell of every parting hour where the screams of the pan- 
ther, and the howl of the wolf, once alarmed the ear of 
night ; where the eloquence of Webster, Everett, Choate, 
and Bancroft, are like household tones, was then heard the 
harangue of some aboriginal orator ; the bay which now 
bears the steamer and the ship, was then unrippled save 
by the light canoe and the " black duck with her glossy 
breast swinging silently " on the glassy heaving surge. 

Alas, for the poor red man ! He has gone with his game 
to the fair hunting-grounds of the West ; his last arrow is 
spent; his bow is broken; the hand that twanged its 
string has forgotten its cunning. A new race and a new 
scene have sprung up as by some strange miracle. 

If so short a time has made so vast an alteration, what 
will it be two centuries hence ? it is not in the power of 
man to foretell ; may each generation advance the embel- 
lishment and refinement of this Athens of America, and its 
greatness be as enduring as the Acropolis. The true 
greatness of a state has been justly said to consist in the 
character of its people. 

Men, high-minded men, 
With powers as far above dull brutes endued 

In forest, brake, or den, 
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude : 

Men who their duties Jcnoiv, 
But know their rights, and knowing dare maintain, 

Present the long-aimed blow, 
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain, 
These constitute a State. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 175 

Though New England cannot boast of rich plantations, 
and gangs of laborers producing vast crops of cotton, corn, 
and rice, of inexhaustible mines and rich prairies, waving 
like lakes of verdure, nor of many fields glistening with 
the golden wheat, yet, like the mother of the Gracchii, she 
can point to her children and say, " These are my jewels" — 
" here is my wealth." Can you show me those who are 
fairer, braver, or smarter than these ? 

When asked by Madame de Stael, " Who is the greatest 
woman in the empire?" Napoleon is said to have replied, 
" She who is the mother of the most children." If this be 
true, New England will be apt to bear off the palm, for this 
is her great staple of produce, and in its quantity she can 
vie with any other mother in the world, not excepting Ire- 
land, to say nothing of its quality. She can point you 
also to her battle-fields, and the graves of those who have 
fallen on the field, or the deck, or have devoted their inter- 
ests, their wealth, and their lives, to the good of their race 
and their country. She will show you her churches, her 
colleges, her school-houses, her benevolent associations, her 
marts, villages, and hamlets, her neat farms, where art and 
industry are triumphing overnature, her factories, founderies, 
and workshops, where human ingenuity is contriving to 
lighten the load of labor, and by giving new value to mat- 
ter, promote the comfort and refinement of man. She will 
there show you her slaves, of which it cannot be said as of 
the lilies, " they toil not, neither do they spin ;" but her 
right of ownership cannot be questioned, as they are hers by 
discovery — machines of her own contrivance, and for which 
she has her patent from Washington. She will show you 
her ships, whose keels cleave every navigable sea; her long 
list of distinguished men, her enterprising and thorough 



176 YANKEE HILL. 

merchants, and wherever the foot of civilized man has ever 
trod, she will show you a representative. 

Land of the forest and the rock, 
Of dark blue lake and mighty river, 
Of mountains rear'd aloft to mock 
The storm's career, the ligntning's shock, 
My own green land for ever. 

Land of the beautiful and brave, 
The freeman's home, the martyr's grave, 
The nursery of giant men, 
Whose deeds have linked with every glen, 
And every hill, and every stream, 
The romance of some warrior dream ; 
Oh, never may a son of thine, 
Where'er his wandering steps incline, 
Forget the sky which bent above 
" His childhood, like a dream of love, 

The stream beneath the green hill glowing, 
The broad-armed trees above it growing, 
Or hear unmoved the taunt of scorn, 
Breathed o'er the brave New-England born. 

There is no one concerning whom there have been such 
conflicting opinions as the native of this region ; he has been 
compared to the Scotchman, whom he resembles in many 
particulars, but mingled with these some qualities of the 
Englishman, and more that are peculiarly his own. He can 
truly be called an original. This is manifested not only in 
his own inventive genius, but in his individuality as a man. 
Wherever you behold him there is something about him 
different from those of other origin. It is not fair to judge 
him by other men, for he is sui generis. If the Virginian 
excels as an advocate, the New Englander is distinguished 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 177 

as a counsellor. He is the founder of new States and the 
framer of their laws. As a public speaker, he is more re- 
markable for sound argument than a playful fancy. He is 
more distinguished as a profound statesman than a mere 
politician, and makes Demosthenes, rather than Cicero, his 
model. When those from other sections are apt to act in 
concert, in the councils of the nation, you find him consult- 
ing his own conscience, and acting accordingly, regardless 
of immediate consequences. In sarcasm, he has been un- 
surpassed, but his favorite weapon is the sledge-hammer, 
rather than the rapier ; though equable and cool in tem- 
per, when once aroused, he is like a lion at hay. He has 
been reproached with a want of imagination, yet he has the 
honor to claim a large majority of our national poets, and 
among them those who, at home and abroad, have held the 
highest rank. As a philosopher, he believes in that indi- 
vidual freedom " which protects itself against the usurpa- 
tions of society ; which does not cower to human opinion ; 
which feels itself accountable to a higher tribunal than 
man's ; which respects a higher law than fashion ; which 
respects itself too much to be the slave or tool of the 
many." As an artist, he is pre-eminent in the higher walks 
of painting, architecture, and ornamental gardening. As 
an editor and political writer, he is unequalled. As a mer- 
chant, he sends his vessels all over the world, and owns 
two-thirds of the shipping of his country. He is a first-rate 
financier, and banks and insurance companies under his 
direction are apt to preserve their solvency, and give good 
dividends when others are bankrupt. In the language of 
Chevalier, at the north or the south, in the east as well as 
the west, he is a true Marquis of Carrabas. At Baltimore, 
as well as at Boston, in New Orleans as wall as at Salem, 



178 YANKEE HILL. 

in New York as well as at Portland, if a merchant is men- 
tioned who has made — and kept, by-the-bye a very dif- 
ficult part of it — a large fortune by sagacity and forecast, 
you will find that he is a Yankee. He will leave his coun- 
try for the East or West Indies, and after several years ab- 
sence, return to his native land, erect a splendid villa on the 
site of the old homestead, or select some wooded eminence 
for his new mansion, and ere long the desert smiles like 
" Araby the blest." As a manufacturer, he was the first to 
prosecute the business successfully, and has more capital 
invested in this branch of industry, than all those from 
other parts of his country together. As a mechanic, he 
is constantly studying to save labor and money. He waa 
the first to suggest to Fulton the idea of steam navigation . 
and the first to succeed in propelling vessels in this way. 
He was the inventor of the cotton-gin, which has done more 
for the culture of cotton and consequent wealth of the 
South, than all else together ; to use the language of the 
popular author we before have quoted, " but for him the 
vast cotton plantations of the South would still be an un- 
cultivated waste." He is the projector of new towns and 
internal improvements, and the principal constructor on all 
our public works. He builds navies and ordnance for the 
Sultan of Turkey, war-steamers for the Autocrat of Russia, 
machinery for the Emperor of Austria, whale-boats and 
whaling-gear for the King of France, and locomotive 
engines for England, the boasted workshop of the world. 
He is in more than one sense a builder, and had he lived in 
the days of Solomon, would no doubt have been a Knight 
Templar. 

Not an acre of land is cultivated in the Union, not a ship 
floats, not an American book is read, not a meal eaten, an 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 179 

article of clothing prepared, or a bank-note engraved in this 
Union, that is not more or less the product of Yankee 
labor and enterprise. As a farmer, he does not suffer him- 
self to be outdone ; he not only invents the best ploughing, 
planting, mowing, raking, cradling, thrashing, shelling, win- 
nowing, and grinding machines, but he is the best agricul- 
tural editor, and is pretty sure to take the premium for the 
fattest oxen and pigs, the finest cheese and butter, largest 
squashes and pumpkins, in all cattle-shows. He also dis- 
plays great skill in subduing the wilderness, raises his log 
cabin at the falls of St. Antony, displaces the colony of 
the beaver, to make room for his saw-mill on the Upper 
Missouri. As a sailor and a soldier, our naval and military 
history will speak in abler language than I can command. 
He was the first to cross the Atlantic in a steamer ; shoot 
seals at the South Shetlands, and slay the sea-elephant at 
Kergulan's Land ; catch cod at Labrador, and whale at 
Delago Bay ; was the first to discover, and as yet the only 
one who has ever landed upon the Southern polar conti- 
nent. He takes a peep, by way of curiosity, into the mael- 
strom, and would, for a sufficient inducement to warrant 
the outlay, contrive to solve the polar problem, and look 
into Symmes' Hole. He hails the Russian exploring expe- 
dition when rejoicing at the discovery of a new group of 
islands in the Antarctic Ocean, and inquires if they dont 
want a pilot ? On being asked who he is, and where he is 
from, gives his name as Captain Nat. Palmer, of the 
sloop Hero of 60 tons burthen, from Stonington, Connec- 
ticut. The Yankee is, in short, a universal genius ; his 
native soil is remarkable for its stubborn and sterile rough- 
ness, and he can be compared to the oak of his own rocky 
hills ; strongly and deeply are rooted his principles and 



180 YANKEE HILL. 

habits ; if he has not the grace of the Southern palmetto, 
he has more of that hardy strength which can wrestle with 
the rude storms of life. Like the young eagle reared on 
the lightning-rifted cliff, he partakes of the same spirit of 
fierce independence and aspiration, looks unawed upon the 
storms that rage around him, and though on soaring wing 
he may wander leagues away, he is sure to return to the 
nestling-place of his attachment. 

They love the land because it is their own, 

And scorn to give the reason why ; 
A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none, 

Such are they nurtured, and such they die. 
All but a few apostates meddling 

With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence, and peddling. 
Or wandering through the Southern countries, teaching 

The A, B, C, or Webster's spelling-book, 
Gallant and godly, making love, and preaching, 

And gaining, by what they call " hook and crook," 
And what moralists call over-reaching, 

A decent living. The Virginians look 
Upon them with as favorable eyes 

As Gabriel on the devil in paradise ; 
But these are but their outcasts — view them near, 

At home where all their worth and pride is placed, 
Aad then their hospitable fire burns clear, 

And there the lowliest farm-house hearth is graced 
With manly hearts in piety sincere. 
Faithful in love, in honor stern and chaste, 
In friendship warm and true, in danger brave — 
Beloved in life and sainted in the grave. 

He has more of steady courage than of romantic chivalry 
and impulse. With no other patrimony than a trade, or an 
education, he early feels the pressure of that strongest in- 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 181 



ducement to action, stern necessity, and does not look for 
many examples in his own acquaintance of self-made men 
to stimulate and guide him. He is taught in the home of 
frugality, that " a penny saved is a penny earned," and 
learns in his school-book that " tall oaks from little acorns 
grow.'' He feels the importance of gradually adding to 
his fund of wealth and knowledge; is apt before embarking 
in any adventure to count the cost," and is more remarkable 
as a shrewd and safe operator than an improvident specu- 
lator; yet he has no objection to laying out his farm into 
town lots, but is rather apt to sell before there is a fall in 
the market. He possesses a great deal of common sense, 
as well as brass, and is remarkable for his general informa- 
tion. More inquisitive than communicative, and is cele- 
brated for picking up knowledge by the wayside ; he is 
ever seeking something new, and how he can turn it to 
profitable account ; rather reserved and suspicious, when 
appearances are not marked 0. K., but clinches those 
whom judgment has once approved with " hooks of steel ;" 
he is the true alchymist, for he possesses the power of 
converting the baser metal into gold, and the divining rod 
held in his hand is pretty sure to point out the hidden ore. 
Regarding cash as the primum mobile, he acts upon the 
principle that there is "no friendship in trade," and is 
therefore a keen fellow at a bargain ; yet when he has once 
amassed a fortune, he richly endows literary and charita- 
ble institutions, and is kind to the poor. 

It has been our misfortune to be judged too much by 
hawking pedlers, who make the " rule of three " their 
"golden rule/' and the arithmetic their creed. I once 
knew two individuals who set up in trade together in a 
western village. After looking over the ground, they con- 



182 YANKEE HILL. 

eluded that it was best for one to join a certain church, the 
other a certain political party, and they turned up a copper 
to see which each should join. He has the convenient 
capability of adapting himself to every situation, and it has 
been said, that if you place him on a rock in the midst of 
the ocean, with a penknife and a bundle of shingles, he 
would manage to work his way ashore. Ho sells salmon 
from Kennebec to the people of Charleston ; haddock, 
fresh, from Cape Cod to the planters of Matanzas, raises 
coffee in Cuba, swaps mules and horses for molasses in 
Porto-Rico, retails ice from Fresh Pond, in Cambridge, to 
the East Indians — mutton, from Brighton, at New Orleans 
and South America; and manufactures morus multicaulis 
for the Governor of Jamaica; becomes an admiral in foreign 
navies; starts in a cockle-shell craft of fifteen tons burden, 
loaded with *onions, mackerel, and other notions, too nume- 
rous to mention, for Valparaiso ; baits his traps on the 
Columbia River ; catches wild beasts in Africa, for Macom- 
ber and Co's " Grand Caravan ;" sells granite on contract to 
rebuild San Juan de Ulloa — is ready, like Ledyard, to start 
for Timbuctoo to-morrow morning — exiles himself for years 
from his home, to sketch in their own wilderness the " wild 
man of the woods,' 1 and astonishes refined Europe with the 
seeming presence of the untutored savage. When intro- 
duced to Metternich, he asks him " What's the news ?" 
says " How do you do, marm," to Victoria ; and prescribes 
" Thompson's eye-water " to the mandarins of China ! 

He is found foremost among those who sway the ele- 
ments of society ; is the schoolmaster for his country, and 
missionary to the whole heathen world. 

He is unequalled in tact, and instead of travelling round 
about ways, starts "across lots " for any desired point. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 183 

He has come nearer to the discovery of perpetual motion 
than any other man ; and if ever it is made, we guess he 
will be the lucky chap to do it. He is the man to 

Bid harbors open, public ways extend, 

Bid temples worthy of his God ascend ; 

Bid the broad arch the dangerous flood contain — 

The mote projecting, break the roaring main ; 

Back to his bounds the subject sea command, 

And roll obedient rivers through the land. 

I cannot close this lecture without addressing- a few 
words to the women of New-England. Her beaming 
eyes and charming smiles remain to awaken and reward 
the pulsations of patriotism ; her affection and tender- 
ness solaced and sustained the fainting pilgrim ; and in 
the days that tried men's souls, she gave confidence to the 
desponding, and energy to the weak ; her kind hand as- 
suaged the sufferings of the wounded, and her bosom pil- 
lowed the head of the dying. 

Whether as a wife, a mother, a sister, or a friend, she 
has the strongest claims upon our affection and gratitude, 
and holds, of social enjoyment, the golden key. She first 
implants the lessons of piety, and garlands our home with 
flowers of love and bliss ; she is the guardian angel of our 
lives, and guides our feet to purity and peace. I will not 
say more at this time, than that there is nothing which 
more clearly marks the degree of refinement among a 
people than the station of " Heaven's last best gift;' 1 and 
we can add, that there is no part of the world, where, with 
all classes she commands the high respect, and exerts the 
influence that she does in New-England. 



184 YANKEE HILL. 



CHIPS FROM SARATOGA. 



Saratoga, in the fashionable season, perhaps presents 
the best menagerie of " human critters " for the study of 
the curious, of any other place in the United States. Not 
only is the animal, man, there seen in the greatest variety, 
but under the most advantageous circumstances for those 
who are fond of seeing him in the full display of extra- 
domestic habits and manners. In a place where so large a 
number assemble from all parts of the United States, 
from all professions, and from all classes of people as are 
to be met with in Saratoga, it would be strange if, with 
some elegance and refinement, there was not a tolerable 
sprinkling of coarseness and vulgarity ; with much of the 
quiet dignity and repose which characterizes the well-born 
and the educated, there was not a great deal of ignorant 
assumption, and contemptible purse-pride. The face of 
society in this country is continually changing. The high, 
commanding forehead of to-day, is down in the mouth 
to-morrow ; and the proudly turned-up nose of yesterday, 
is laid flat by some plebeian fist to-day. The aristocracy of 
our families seldom lasts beyond a generation or two, and 
in no place in the United States ean you more plainly see 
the influences of the great democratic principle of equality 
more savagely struggling to maintain its supremacy than 
in the fashionable watering-places of the Union. For a 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 185 

season or two, or perhaps three, you may possibly meet 
the same families, but for the most part in that time you 
will experience a great change both in the manner and 
quality of the visitors. The fluctuations in cotton, or the 
decline of tallow, has produced wonderful changes. Par- 
ties who, in your remembrance, were content with a cheap 
excursion to Coney Island, are now ambitiously apeing the 
manners of the ton at Newport or Saratoga; and those 
you perhaps envied there, as the observed of all observers, 
for a few seasons, are now content with a maritime excursion 
along the shores of Long Island. 

Mr. Hill visited Saratoga on many occasions, and always 
met with a hearty support from the gay loiterers to his 
evenings' entertainments. I know not what advantage Mr. 
Hill might have derived from his observation of character 
on these visits, but I regret to say, he has left very few 
written records of his experiences. From the nature of 
the notes he made, and which are now in my possession, 
it is evident that he intended, at some time or other, to 
enlarge upon them for future use. 

In 1840, Mr. Hill visited Saratoga professionally. On 
the first day, he went to dinner at the United States Hotel ; 
he was seated opposite a little, round dumpling of a man, 
whose fat, red face displayed an utter absence of everything 
like care, and whose happy smile showed, if not the pos- 
session of a good heart, a most undeniable integrity of 
digestion. He was evidently a stranger to those little con- 
ventionalisms which distinguish polite society. He was not 
easy. He fidgetted in his chair, rubbed his hands, wish- 
ing, as it appeared, to hide the confusion of his feeling in 
the exuberant action of his body. He looked up and 
down the table not a little puzzled to make a choice from 



186 YANKEE HTLL. 

the endless variety of dishes upon the table. At length his 
eye distended, and the smile upon his face became brighter 
and broader. " Waiter," said he, " are those green 
peas?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" What ! green peas ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" Give me some, waiter ; don't take them away. I'm 
very fond of green peas : don't take them away." 

" Ah ! woodcock, waiter. Is that woodcock ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" Give me some woodcock, waiter. Don't take them 
away, waiter: I am very fond of woodcock." 

He now set to work upon his woodcock and peas, and 
whilst busy devouring the luxury, a gentleman acquainted 
with Mr. Hill, and who sat next our fat friend, said : " I 
am very happy to see you at the Springs, Mr. Hill." 

The little man dropped his knife and fork, and after 
staring Mr. Hill full in the face for a moment, turned to 
the gentleman who had spoken, inquired of him " who was 
that man over there— and what is he — and what does he 
do?" 

" A great many things," replied the other, with a very 
serious air. He is a great delineator of Yankee character. 
He can put his face in ten thousand shapes, and imitate the 
look and manners of every man he meets." 

" You don't say so?" 

" Yes, sir ; he gives an entertainment to-morrow night, 
and you had better take care what you do or say, or he will 
show you up in the most laughable style. He has mon- 
strous power." 

The little man became at once very serious. He was 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 187 

not so silly as not to know that he was a little out of 
place in the company, in which a plethoric purse alone had 
given him a place, and he dreaded the idea of be- 
coming an object of ridicule. The green peas faded before 
his eyes, the charms of the woodcock had taken wing and 
flown away. As soon as possible, after, dinner, he sought 
an opportunity of speaking to Mr. Hill. Approaching to 
where he stood, he tapped him gently on the shoul- 
der, and drawing him on one side, said : " Look here, Mr. 
Hill, you are not going to make the folks laugh at me, are 
you ?" 

" Make the folks do what at you ?" 
"Laugh at me." 

" Why, what put such an idea into your head ?" 
" Why I was told you was- — you see, Mr. Hill, I'm a kind 
of strange among these folks here, but at home I am 
" some pumpkins." Now, I don't mind standing five or 
six dollars, if you won't say nothing about me. Now, don't, 
Mr. Hill, won't you ?" 

" Never fear," said Mr. Hill ; " it is not my province nor 
my nature to pick out individuals, to show them up to ridi- 
cule ; so there's no fear." 

" Well, now, that's hearty ; and if that waiter has not 
taken away the peas and the woodcock, I'll go and finish 
my dinner." So taking Mr. Hill cordially by the hand, 
he went on his way rejoicing. 



There is a class of young men, who let their dresses 
wear them, instead of wearing their dresses. They are 
but, at best, mere human appendages to a given quantity 
of broadcloth and starch. Classes of the softer sex, if 



188 YANKEE HILL. 

anything can be softer than the male class referred to, are 
equally liable to be infected with the same weakness. 
Saratoga abounds with humans of this genus. I do not 
know that one would care anything about them, if it were 
not, that, presuming upon the unexceptionable character 
of their attire, they did not thrust themselves upon one's 
notice. If they were only endowed with discretion enough 
to keep their mouths closed, they might pass muster as 
very respectable lay figures for the use of tailors and mil- 
liners, but they seldom have judgment enough for that, 
and out of their own mouths they stand condemned. 

On one occasion, as Mr. Hill was standing at the door of 
the United States Hotel, he saw approaching him a human 
figure dressed in the extreme of fashion : his hat, with 
extraordinary ingenuity, was balanced on one side of his 
head, apparently prevented from falling off by the aid of a 
large bundle of curly hair. His upper lip was thatched. 
He held in his hand a little cane, with which he would 
occasionally beat the side of his leg, with a courage quite 
remarkable, considering the fragile nature of his supports. 
He shuffled towards Mr. Hill in the most affected manner. 

" How do, Mr. Hill, deloighted to see you. I shall pat- 
ronoize you, to-night, I shall, pon honor." 

" I shall be happy to see you at my entertainment," 
replied Mr. Hill. 

" Ah, much obleeged. I like to patronoize such persons 
as you, you are so demned entertaining: you are, pon 
honor." 

" I feel profoundly sensible of your kind intentions of 
patronoizing me," said Mr. Hill, mimicing the tone and 
manners of the exquisite, " but I would not have you run 
any risks on my account." 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 189 

"Whoy, it's only a half." 

" Oh, ah ! that is not what I meant ; but I should be 
afraid if you should come, and be struck with an idea, it 
might prove fatal." 

"Sir!" 

" And then, sir, you know if I should chance to have 
the honor of waking you up to a hearty laugh, some of 
your gearing might give way, and no one can tell what 
might be the awful consequences." 

" Ah ! eh ! you are demned funny. I shall certainly 
patronoize you, at all events ; and I intend to bring Miss E. 
with me, pon honor. She is one of the most charming 

cree-tures you ever saw, — dresses so well, and ah ! 

there she is, delightful cree-ture. — I shall bring her with 
me, to-night, pon honor. Bye, bye, Mr. Hill, depend on 
my patroinage." Saying which he departed. 

If it were not for the amusing monkey antics of such 
fellows, it would be a fortunate thing if they could all be 
brained with a \Yebster's spelling book, or some other fatal 
instrument of that character. Actors are particularly liable 
to be insulted by promises of patronage from just such 
brainless animals as he who volunteered to countenance 
Mr. Hill. They do not look upon the actor as one belong- 
ing to a profession which requires talent, energy, and study, 
for its successful pursuit, but as a mere instrument of their 
amusement, — not having a particle of value in society be- 
yond the emotions they can create from the stage. The 
actors are, themselves, in a great measure, to blame for 
the low appreciation put upon their art. If they were only 
to study the part they have to play upon the real stage of 
life, as they do those they represent upon the mimic one, 
they would not so often as now be insulted by the patron 



190 YANKEE HILL. 

age of purse-proud asses, and ignorant dandies. But, to re- 
turn to Saratoga. At dinner, on the day Mr. H. encoun- 
tered the exquisite, he had the pleasure of sitting opposite 
the charming Miss E., whose beauties and accomplishments 
his " patron " had so highly eulogized. She appeared to be 
about nineteen years of age, rather stout, but of delicate 
complexion. Her hair was flaxen, her eyes blue, and her 
nose approaching the pug, and she lisped. 

" Thelina, dear," said she, to a lady who sat next her, 
" have you thelected your dreth for the mathquerade thith 
evening ?" 

" Yes, I have." 

" Do you know what I am going to wear ?" 

" Well, not precisely." 

" Oh, thuch a love of a dreth. I am going to appear ath 
a Highland Thotch Lath. Than't I look a divinity ? Mr. 
E. thayth he thall be perfectly enthanted, and will not 
allow me out of his thight the whole evening ; won't that 
be delithous ? Ma thayth — do you ? — that thee really 
thinkth Mithter Higginth will propothe before we leave the 
Springth ; oh, dear ! eh ! eh ! eh I" 

" Oh, scissors," said Mr. Hill, and left the table in a roar 
of laughter. 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 191 



A FAMILY PICTURE. 



Mr. Hill, in one of his many visits " down east," was 
belated one evening, and was compelled to seek shelter at 
a small farm-house. He thus describes the family party 
and the family doings on that evening. 

The heads of the family were a Mr. and Mrs. Jones, who 
were honored, on this occasion, with a visit from a plain 
sort of man, who told me, said Mr. Hill, that he teached 
school in winter, and hired out in haying time. What this 
man's name was, I do not exactly recollect. It might have 
been Smith, and for convenience' sake, we will call him 
John Smith. This Mr. Smith brought a newspaper with 
him, which was printed weekly, which Mr. Jones said — as 
it did not agree with his politics — was a very weakly 
consarn. 

Mr. Jones was seated one side of an old pine table, and 
Mr. Smith on the other. Mrs. Jones sat knitting in one 
corner, and the children under the fire-place — some crack- 
ing nuts, others whittling sticks, <kc. Mr. Jones, after 
perusing the paper for some time, observed to Mrs. Jones, 
" My dear !" 

Mrs. Jones. Well. 

Mr. Jones. It appears. 

Mrs. J. Well, go on. 

Mr. J. I say, it appears. 



192 YANKEE HILL. 



Well, law souls, I heard it ; go on. 
I say, it appears from a paragraph 



Mrs 
Mr. 

Mrs 


J. 
J. 
J. 


to appear. 
Mr. J. 


paper - 





Well, it don't appear as if you were ever going 
I say, it appears from a paragraph in this 



Mrs. J. There — there you go again. Why on airth, 
Jones, don't you spit it out. 

Mr. J. I say, it appears from a paragraph in this 
paper 

Mrs. J. Well, I declare, Jones, you are enough to tire 
the patience of Job. Why on airth don't you out with it. 

Mr. J. Mrs. Jones, will you be quiet. If you get my 
dander up, I'll raise Satan round this house, and you know 
it, tew. Mr. Smith you must excuse me. I'm obliged to 
be a little peremptory to my wife, for if you wasn't here 
she'd lick me like all natur. Well, as I said, it appears 
from this paper, that Seth Slope — you know'd Seth Slope, 
that used to be round here ? 

Mrs. J. Yes ; well, go on ; out with it. 

Mr. J. Well, you know he went out in a whalin' voyage. 

Mrs. J. Yes, well. 

Mr. J. Well, it appears he was settin' on the stern, 
when the vessel give a lee lurch, and he was knocked over- 
board, and hain't written to his friends since that time. 

Mrs. J. La, souls ! you don't say so. 

Before going further, I will endeavor to give you some 
idea of this Seth Slope. He was what they term, down 
east, "a poor shote;" his principal business was picking 
up chips, feeding the hogs, &c, &c. I will represent him 
with this hat. {Puts on hat.) 

" Mrs. Jones says I don't know nothin', and Mr. Jones 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 193 

says I don't know nothin', {laughs ;) and everybody says I 
don t know nothin' ; and I say I do know nothin', (Laughs.} 
Don't I pick up all the chips to make the fires ? And don't 
I feed the hogs, and the ducks, and the hens ? (Laughs.) 
And don't I go down to the store every morning, for a jug 
of rum ? And don't I take a good suck myself ? I don't 
know nothin' — ha — (laughs.) And don't I go to church 
every Sunday ? and don't I go up stairs, and when the 
folks go to sleep, dont' I throw corn on 'em to wake 'em 
up ? And don't I see the fellers winking at the gals, and 
the gals winking at the fellers ? And don't I go home 
and tell the old folk ; and when they come home, don't 
the old folk kick up the darndest row ? (Laughs.) And 
don't I drive the hogs out of the garden, to keep 'em 
from rooting up the taters ? And don't I git asleep there, 
sometimes, and don't they root me up. (Laughs.) And 
didn't I see a fly on Deacon Stoke's red nose, t'other day ; 
and didn't I say, " Take care, Deacon Stokes, you'll burn 
his feet ?" I don't know nothin', eh ! (Laughs.) 

This Mrs. Jones I have spoken of, was a very good kind 
of woman, and Mr. Jones was considered a very good sort 
of man ; but was rather fond of the bottle. On one occa- 
sion, I recollect particularly, he had been to a muster, and 
came home so much intoxicated, that he could hardly 
stand, and was obliged to lean against the chimney-piece, to 
prevent himself from falling, and Mrs. Jones says to him, 
" STow, Jones, aint you ashamed of yourself ? Where on 
airth do you think you'd go to, if you was to die in that 
sitiwation?" 

Jones, ( Very drunk). Well, I don't know where I should 
bat I shouldn't go far, without I could go faster 

Q ,11 I dc 11077. 



194 YAKNEE HILL. 

As soon as Mr. Jones had finished the paragraph in the 
paper, Mrs. Jones threw on her shawl, and went over to 
her neighbors to communicate the news. I will endeavor 
to give you an idea of Mrs. Jones, by assuming this shawl 
and cap. (Puts on shawl and cap.) 

" Well, Mrs. Smith, I suppose you ain't heard the 
news?" 

" La, no, what on airth is it V 

u You recollect Seth Slope, that used to be about here V 

" Yes, very well." 

" You know he went a whalin' voyage ?" 

" Yes." 

" Well, it appears, from an advartisement in the papers, 
that he was sittin' on the starn of the vessel, when the 
vessel give a lee lurch, that he was knocked overboard and 
was drowned, and that he has not written to his friends 
ever since. Oh, dear ! it's dreadful to think on. Poor crit- 
ter ! — he was such a clever, good-natured, kind soul. I 
recollect when he was about here, how he used to come into 
the house and set down, and get up and go out, and come 
in agin, and set down, and get up and go out. Then he'd 
go down to the barn, and throw down some hay to the 
critters, and then he'd come into the house agin, and get 
up and go out, and go down to the store and get a jug of 
rum, — and sometimes he'd take a little suck of it himself. 
But, la, souls ! I never cared nothing about that. Good, 
clever critter ! Then arter he'd come back with the rum, 
he'd set down a little while, and get up and go out, and 
pick up chips, and drive the hogs out of the garden ; and 
then he'd come into the house and kick over the swill- pail, 
and set down, and stick his feet over the mantel-piece, and 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 195 

whittle all over the hearth, and spit tobacco juice all over 
the carpet, and make himself so sociable. And poor fellow ! 
now he's gone. Oh, dear ! how dreadful wet he must have 
got! Well, Mrs. Smith, it goes to show that we are all 
accountable critters. 



196 YANKEE HILL 



A POOR SPECIMEN OF THE YANKEE CHARAC- 
TER, AND A TOLERABLE FAIR SAMPLE 
OF THE IRISH CHARACTER. 



The New England people are noted for their hospitality ; 
for although they will shave you as closely as possible in a 
bargain, even to the paltry amount of a few cents, they do 
not object to give you a dinner that will cost ten times as 
much as the advantage they might get in a bargain. There 
are black sheep in every flock ; and the old lady, of whose 
meanness I am going to relate, was one of them. A poor, 
way-worn traveller of an Irishman, stopped at a small farm- 
house in the neighborhood of Worcester, and asked for a 
bowl of bread and milk. This simple refreshment is usually 
given to all who ask the slight repast, without a wish for 
any other remuneration than the satisfaction to be derived 
from the doing of a benevolent act. The old lady to whom 
the poor Irishman appealed was not to be rewarded in 
this way, and when the poor fellow had partaken of his 
bread and milk, and some hard, indigestible cheese which 
was placed before him, he asked what there was to pay 
He had but a twenty-five cent piece in the world, but hf 
was proud for all that. 

" Why," said the old lady, " seeing as how you hav( 
drank a powerful lot of milk, and our cows are very dry 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 197 

this summer — indeed they are the driest lot of critters you 
ever did see, and as for cheese, I never dew expect to see 
another bit of cheese as long as I live. I guess I must 
charge your twenty-five cents : yes, jest abeout twenty-five 
cents." 

The poor Irishman reluctantly threw down his quarter, 
and walked towards the door. 

"Look here, my good man," exclaimed the old woman, 
" you've been travelling reound a good deal, I dare say, 
and may be you can tell suthen that will cure the rats." 

" Faith ! marm, you may say that. But what's the 
matter wid de craythurs — what's the disase?" 

" Oh ! they aint got no disease. They are abeout the 
heartiest lot of rats you ever did see. They have gnawed 
clear deown from the garret into the cellar, and I do wish 
I could get suthen as would drive 'em away from the 
house." 

" It's me, marm, that knows what will drive 'em away — 
like St. Patrick driv away the varmin from ould Ireland." 

" Dew tell — there's a good man !" 

" But I'll have to charge you fifty cents for it, for I'm a 
poor boy." 

" Oh ! I don't mind what I pay, if you'll only drive them 
away, so that they'll never come back again ;" and so 
saying, the old lady put another down upon the one she 
had just received from Pat. 

The Irishman put both into his pocket. 

" Well, marm," said Pat, " I'll tell you what will drive 
them away, so that they'll never come back : you must 
get a large bowl — not such a one as I've been eating from, 
but a much larger one if you plase — fill it full of milk, but 
don't skim the crame off as you did for me, crumble some 



198 YANKEE HILL. 

stale bread into it, and be sure you don't use i, fresh 
baked, for it aint good for their little stomachs ; then let 
all the rats come round and ate. Don't disturb them, 
marm, if you plase, but let them ate as long as they've a 
mind to, and when they get through, charge them twenty- 
five cents a piece, and, by St. Patrick, they'll never trouble 
your house again l" 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 199 



A DINNER PARTY AS WAS A DINNER PARTY. 



The announcement of the highly-successful comedy of 
" The Green Mountain Boy " was presented to Mr. Hill by 
its author, during his first appearance in Boston, at the 
Warren- street Theatre. The success of this piece was 
celebrated by a dinner, at the lodgings of its author. Be- 
sides Mr. Hill, some of those who had performed in the 
piece were invited, and other gentlemen, friends of the au- 
thor, making in all about twenty guests. Dramatic authors 
are not often in a position to give entertainments, but in 

this case, Dr. , occupying an eminent position in 

another profession, could afford this almost incredible un- 
dertaking. The day before the dinner was to be given, the 
author received a note from Mr. Hill, desiring that all the 
company should wear white wigs upon the occasion, and 
also to give notice that he should take the liberty of bring- 
ing a friend whom he had accidentally met, and whom he 
had believed to have been dead a number of years. 

In order rightly to understand the purport of all this, I 
must recur to some events which occurred the day before. 
Mr. Hill was very fond, when walking along the street, of 
attracting the attention of the passers-by, by making some 
odd quotation from the dramatic store ever at his com- 
mand. 



200 YANKEE HILL. 

" The babe died with its mother " — " He cut her throat 
from ear to ear," and such like sayings. Frequently he 
has been stopped by some verdant news-hunter, desirous to 
be informed the particulars of the heroic story thus dimly 
shadowed forth. This was often the cue for some extrava- 
gant invention that would have made even Baron Mun- 
chausen blush. 

About the time of which I am writing, there was a great 
religious excitement in Boston against the theatres. Fana- 
tical ranters were denouncing everything of a dramatic 
character. They mixed play-acting and intemperance in 
such groggy proportions, that many of the well-meaning 
temperance advocates became so intoxicated with the doses 
administered, that they fell off the temperance platform, 
stumbling upon the stage. At this time Mr. Hill had been 
playing, with great eclat, Mawworm, in the Hypocrite. 
One morning, whilst passing down Washington-street, he 
was invited by a friend to drink. " No," says Hill, " I 
will never drink again," and seeing a seedy individual ap- 
proaching — black dress, white cravat, &c. — he exclaimed 
aloud, a la Mawworm, •* 'tis true — and she cut her throat 
from ear to ear." 

" Say, friend," said the seedy gentleman, attracted by 
the manner of Hill, " what did she cut her throat for ?" 

" Because her husband got drunk," replied Hill. " I 
knew her well, poor critter." 

" Tell me all about it," anxiously asked the seedy gen- 
tleman. 

Mr. Hill's invention never was at a loss in such a case, 
and he made the hair stand on end upon the head of the 
astonished listener, when he related the horrors which led 
the woman to cut her throat from ear to ear. But, how- 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 201 

ever, rum is the cause of such real horrors, that little merit 
is due to Hill's invention in picturing forth its evils. No 
imagining can equal the reality. 

The stranger invited Mr. Hill to his room, near by, where 
the tracts were printed for gratuitous distribution, by 
which the community of reformers hoped to chase sin 
from the city. 

Hill told Mr. Spyman, as we will call the gentleman in 
black, (his real name being concealed for good reasons) 
that he was out of employment at present, but that he 
could write, and would like to compose some tracts. 

Spyman thought he might do, telling him if he would 
write a good one against the theatres it might do much 
good. After discussing temperance, and other congenial 
topics of the day, Mr. Hill proposed that his new friend 

should call at No. Washington Street, at 6 P. M. on 

the following day, informing Spyman that a committee meet- 
ing was to be held for the purpose of buying up all the 
theatres and converting them into meeting houses, and the 
actors into preachers. Hill gave his name as Duzanberry. 
Spyman was very much pleased with the invitation, and 
agreed to be there, Hill also promising to meet Spyman 
at the tract room in the morning of the same day. Hill 
kept his appointment, and, as a finish to the morning's 
work, proposed to introduce Spyman to the celebrated Mr. 
Mawworm. 

At 5 P. M. on the day of the dinner, there were as- 
sembled at No. Washington Street, twenty indivi- 
duals, determined on enjoyment, and each prepared to 
furnish his quota of wit, song, sentiment and humor. 

Mr. Hill came without his friend, but announced that 
he would mingle with "society" before the board was 



202 YAKNEE HILL. 



cleared. The whole party, without at all comprehending 
Hill's intentions, complied with his request, and appeared 
in white wigs. They made, as may readily be imagined, 
rather an outrd appearance. Two Irish lads, waiters in the 
house, were dressed in livery, and answered to the well- 
known dramatic names of Doriscourt and De Valscour. 
After the cloth was removed, and the wine was circulating, 
a general request was preferred to Mr. Hill that he should 
explain the object of this dining in wigs. Mr. Hill deferred 
his reply for the present. The bell rang, and Doriscourt 
came into the room, and said a Mr. Spyman was below, 
who inquired for Mr. Duzanberry. Mr. Hill announced that 
he was Mr. Duzanbeny, and that the object of Spyman 's 
visit was to have Hill read a tract. He acquainted them 
with his interview of the day before. The company now 
began to smell some fun, immediately resolved themselves 
into a committee of twenty, for the reception of the envoy 
of the Reform Club. Glasses and bottles quickly disap- 
peared, and De Valscour was ordered to show in Mr. Spy- 
man. Says Hill this is the text from the tract from which 
I shall preach : — " A house divided against itself cannot 
stand." All I ask of you is to keep sober, and whatever I 
command do it. 

De Valscour entered, and following him, Mr. Spyman. 
Hill requested the company to rise and join with him in 
singing a solemn dirge, which they did very gravely. 

Spyman was introduced to the company, Mr. Hill giving 
to each the name of some celebrated preacher. Spyman 
seemed a good deal puzzled with the white wigs, but the 
gravity impressed upon every face seemed to satisfy him 
of the honorable order of the meeting. 

Spyman responded to the introduction, and commenced 



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 203 

a tirade against actors and acting, and said he had just re- 
ceived a note, informing him that a play actor named Hill 
had held forth in the theatre against reform. He then 
read the note, which was as follows : 

" Mr. Spy man, 

" Sir : — That notorious Yankee Hill, (a general titter 
in the company) is going to playact again next week in the 
theatre. Yours, " A Friend." 

The reading of this note produced sundry winks and 
girations of fingers in the company. Hill advised Spy man 
to reply to the note through the papers, and commenced 
explaining, after the manner of Mawworm, much to the 
delight of his friends, and to the surprise of Mr. Spyman. 
_At length he drew out the tract, and giving Mr. Spyman 
some home thrusts for his ignorance and bigotry, politely 

informed him that he was Mr. Yankee Hill, and that 

he could not consistently preach against actors or thea- 
tres, for you know my text, "A house divided against itself 
cannot stand." Spyman was astonished, and looking upon 
Mr. Hill with a mingled expression of sorrow and anger, 
lifted up his hands and departed. The company covered 
his confused retreat with a rollicking chorus. At his exit 
the bottles and glasses were brought back, and song and 
anecdote resumed. 

The story of this committee business was soon noised 
abroad, and caused a great deal of amusement, for Spyman 
was well known all over the city. In playing Mawworm 
upon the stage, Mr. Hill frequently alluded to the com- 
mittee, which the audience received with evident satisfac- 
tion. 

THE END. 



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